Like Never Before
by AlliEquality
Summary: Santana is going home to Lima for her 5 year class reunion while at a crossroads in her life. Brittana. Rated M for language and future sexual situations. Santana's POV.
1. The Changing Ocean Tides

**A/N: This is my first time posting a story so I hope its not too awful. The title is from the song _Songbird_ and Chapter 1 is a line from the song _Landslide_. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the characters in it.**

_**Chapter One: The Changing Ocean Tides** _

With the first sip I'm brutally reminded of how bad this coffee has always been. The oh-so-cleverly named _Lima Bean_ coffee house is the only place in town to get morning caffeine that isn't overrun by senior citizens or skuzzy gas station people. I try my best to wipe the disgusted look off my face and kindly nudge away the cup of what can only be described as 'shit flavored' and I feign a smile across the table at Quinn. The leftover taste in my mouth would be enough to kill a person if they had endured more than just one sip. I'm almost disappointed in myself for being so kind about the bad coffee in front of people. The high school version of me would be going bat-shit crazy over something like this. And maybe that was better? Have I mellowed out too much?

"You're over-thinking something. What is it?" Quinn pulled me out of my trance.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just bad coffee." I shrug my shoulders in response.

"You've barely said a word since we got in here, Santana. What is it? Are you having some sort of crazy déjà vu being back in your old stomping grounds?" She curled up one side of her mouth into that same smirk she's had for as long as I can remember.

"No…no déjà vu yet," I let out a long, exaggerated sigh and attempted to change the subject, "So how are things with Trouty Mouth? Planning on having any fish-lipped babies yet?"

She gives me her 'I'm not amused' smile, squints her eyes and tilts her head slightly, "No, we're not having babies. We just started dating again. Baby and marriage talk are a long way off."

I brush her off with a bored wave of my hand which I bring to rest at the side of my face and my eyes fall to the window as I watch the incredibly not-busy main street of Lima. After being away for five years I had forgotten how slow life moved here. Sure, I had visited, but never stayed long enough to take in the scenery and reminisce about my old hometown. It looks so boring. I can count the number of people on the street right now. They're all so relaxed looking. So bored looking. Everybody smiles and waves at everybody else when they pass each other in the street. It's a comfortable boring. The kind of boring you get when you feel safe. Like when you know people won't cheat you out of money or morals. A kind of bittersweet boring. The more I think about it, it's kind of a relaxing boring.

"There you go thinking again." She brings me out of my daze, again.

"I know," I smile at her, "It's a nasty habit I picked up in college."

She laughs this time, "Why are you so quiet? It's unnerving to have a quiet Santana in my midst. Are you thinking about the reunion or something?"

"Nope. Couldn't care less," I lie.

"Liar." She challenges me.

"Why would I be over-thinking something so pointless? The only people who will show up are the ones who have stayed in Lima anyway. Why are you even calling it a reunion? It can just as easily be called 'typical Saturday night' with Finn, Puck, and Sam."

Her eyes fall slightly and I can tell that I've hurt her. She was the only girl out of our little group of friends to stay in the area after high school. It's not like Quinn had failed or anything. She had gone to four years of college but then swiftly moved back here once her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had started working in real estate and as far as I knew she was doing quite well for herself here. She really had nothing to be ashamed of. But, leave it to me to make somebody feel like shit where they should be proud.

After a moment of silence I decide to swallow my pride, "Look, Quinn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't hav—"

"It's not true you know," she interrupts me.

"What…" I glance around like I had missed something, "What's not true?" I squint my eyes at her.

"We're not the only ones who are going to be there."

My face relaxes and I decide to let her have her moment of proving me wrong while I stare at the shit coffee. I deserve it.

She continues, "Tina is coming and bringing her husband. He's a really sweet guy."

"Yeah I heard you were in their wedding. Bridesmaid?" I inquire.

She nods her head and goes on, "Yeah, and Mike is flying in from LA. Which might be kind of awkward with Tina and her new husband but it's been over 4 years so he will just have to get over it. Oh, and he's going to bring Artie as an honorary guest since he graduated the year after us and they live so close together. And Rachel and Kurt are going to carpool down here from New York-"

She's officially babbling. When Quinn gets excited there's no stopping her so I might as well just ride this one out. Sometimes her quick-paced rants make me want to physically harm myself, but I can just take solace in the fact that it's her and not Berry. That high-pitched of a frequency would be enough to make me to grab the cup and chug the rest of the coffee. Death by shit.

"—Puck said he's going to bring Sugar even though they fight non-stop. It's seriously the relationship from hell. I have to hear about it every week from both of them. But I just always remind him that he should have learned his lesson the first time with getting me pregnant. Oh, that reminds me! Do you want to see Beth's Kindergarten picture? She'll be a first grader soon. Shelby always sends us pictures and updates."

Quinn had reached into her purse before I had a chance to politely stop her. I don't understand the desire to look at kids' school pictures. Maybe I won't fully grasp it until I'm a mother myself. To me, every six year old looks the same. Awkward. Usually with some sort of food or snot on their face. Quinn shoves the picture in front of my eyes, refusing to give me a choice.

I humor her, "She's cute, Quinn. Looks just like you." It's a lie. Even through a picture I can see the devilish Puckerman in her. That poor girl. Her poor adoptive mother.

Quinn smirks at me, "You don't have to lie, Santana. I know she looks like Puck. It's okay." She laughs slightly as she tucks the picture back into her billfold.

I crank my neck slowly to the right and then swiftly to the left, allowing my joints to crack and relieve some built up pressure. I'm bored of this conversation. I'm ready to go home, which reminds me that I need to ask Quinn a massive favor.

"Hey, Quinn, do you think it would be possible to—"

"How do you think Rachel and Finn will act being in the same room as each other after so long?" She interrupts me again.

My mouth is still open from my previously unfinished question and I just stare at her with blank eyes and shake my head from side to side. How the hell does she expect me to answer that? Of course I don't fucking know how they will act. Nor will I waste a single second of my life contemplating it.

Her eyes narrow in on me and I know what's coming next but I am powerless to stop it. She lowers her chin and arches an eyebrow.

"Or…" she starts, "how do you think you and _Brittany_ will act being in the same room after so long?"

And there she was…the Quinn I once knew. The seventeen-year-old version of herself that lives for potential drama and feeds off of it like a vampire does with blood.

My throat tightens at the sound of her name, but I am not about to give Quinn any satisfaction.

"Quinn I need a favor," I say bluntly.

She relaxes back into her chair. "Yes?"

"My parents are re-doing their house and failed to mention it to me. They're going to be staying at my Abuela's until it's finished and she has no extra room for me…" I look down at my lap, "Nor does she really want me there."

I peek up at Quinn to see her reaction which is, thankfully, sincere.

"You know I would let you if I could…but I can't. My sister and her husband are home with all their kids and all the spare bedrooms are being used. I would just let you share a bed with me, but to bring a guest over with the whole family home—well, let's just say I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

I nod my head in understanding. I'm actually grateful to her for being honest and not putting me in an awkward family situation.

"But hey, there are plenty of people coming home! I'm sure you'll find a place to stay. When will you need it?"

"The day after the reunion."

She smiles so big that her teeth show.

"What?" I half-laugh, half-say.

"So you're staying longer than the reunion, huh?"

I sigh again, "Yeah. I'm not exactly finding work in New York like Rachel and Kurt are," I pause for a moment unsure if I should continue to divulge any personal information to Quinn, but I cave and go on anyway, "I took the week off from the restaurant to re-charge my batteries and fully decide what I want to do now that I'm out of school."

"Are you considering moving back here?" She asks with more excitement in her voice than she can possibly hide.

"I don't know," I answer as honestly as I can.

"You know," she lowers her voice like she's about to reveal the secret to life, "Brittany just moved back here for good, too."

My stomach flips and I instantly feel a nervous sensation wash over me. I had heard from Kurt that Brittany was planning on moving home, but it was never validated otherwise. I tried as hard as I could to avoid any information about her life because it was just too painful. And once I do learn of something I become innately obsessed with her every action and move. I replay our final days together over and over and over again in my head and wonder what could be different. If my life could be different. Better, maybe? Worse, probably. Worse than this, though? I'm 23-years-old and I haven't a clue what I'm going to do with my Bachelor's Degree in Music, or my Master's Degree in Child Psychology that I had just finished. It really wasn't difficult to obtain either of them. I stacked my classes and studied like crazy—which helped keep my mind focused on anything other than Brittany S. Pierce.

I had been applying to jobs at schools in New York. To theatre companies. To pretty much anywhere that would utilize my schooling. And it amounted to what? I'm a waitress at place called Tami's. I've been a waitress there for over four years and if I decide to go back up and stay in New York after my little vacation here in Lima, I will be promoted to Asst. Manager. Which means professional waitress. The money is okay, but the hours are shit. I will be one step closer to becoming a lifer; which is nothing to really be ashamed of except for the fact that I feel like I wasted the last five years of my life trying to achieve something with which I have passion. I love New York. I see Kurt a lot. Sometimes Rachel. When she tags along.

"Santana? Did I upset you?" I look up to see that Quinn is being genuine. She's worried. I must look as sick as I feel right now.

"N-no. You didn't upset me. I guess I just didn't know that Brittany had moved back here. Is she living with her parents?"

She ran her eyes up and down my face to be sure she could continue without hurting me. "No," she said slowly, "Her parents moved to Columbus. She's living in their old house by herself."

I can tell by the look on her face that she's thinking I could just crash at Brittany's place but she's too nice to say it out loud. We both know what my response would be.

"So…you really are kind of anxious over seeing her, aren't you?" She said it nicely and I know she's try to be a friend, but it made me want to throw the shit coffee across the table at her face.

I have some rage in me. After 5 years of psychology classes I have determined that it all boils down to repressed feelings that I do not adequately release at proper times. I can psychologically evaluate the shit out of anybody else around me, but when I have to turn the microscope on myself I turn into a wriggly worm just trying to escape the pressures of being observed and diagnosed. Truth be told, the only time I was in a state of true mental health was my last year with Brittany. I was honest about my homosexuality with everybody around me and anytime I was upset or angry or happy or, hell, anything, I was sure to talk about it with Brit. She was my safe place.

Quinn is patiently awaiting my response so I digress.

"Yes. I'm anxious."

"Is anxious the right word?"

"I'm terrified, excited, elated, nervous, and yes, anxious as shit over seeing Brittany at the reunion."

She looks down at her now empty cup and smiles softly. She thought that was funny but doesn't think it's appropriate to laugh. I can read Quinn like a storybook.

I start to laugh slightly to put her at ease. She looks up at me and smiles. I really do miss Quinn. It wouldn't be so bad to live close to her again. She knows me pretty well, too, and it's nice to have that comfortable dynamic with an old friend.

"I can't believe you drank that entire cup of shit," I laugh a little harder.

"When you don't have anything to compare it to it tastes pretty good. You'll see, by the end of the week you'll be loving this coffee." She gives me a confident smile and raises both eyebrows to show that she _knows_ she is right.

"Maybe you're right," I concede, "by tomorrow I may be able to stomach two drinks instead of just one."

"So all of those emotions you're feeling," she changes the subject back to where I don't want it, "it'll be like you're actually in high school again. Like your first kiss or something."

I suck in a long, deep breath through my nose and exhale it slowly, "Yeah…I suppose it will be."

She looks at me with total seriousness and says, "I'm jealous. I miss those types of feelings. The kind that make your stomach go crazy and your skin come alive." She pauses and I can see the hurt behind her eyes. "I never get them anymore."

I try to give her an understanding look because I haven't had those feelings in years, either. I only ever had them with Brittany.

"I guess nobody really ends up with their high school sweetheart, huh?" I try to comfort her. "It would all be way too _Dawson's Creek_ if we did."

_**Eight Years Earlier**_

"_San, I'm nervous. I really don't want to go to this party because the boys will just laugh at me. They always tease me." _

"_But, B, you promised you would be my wing-man and show up with me! I can't go alone. I will look like such a loser. People like Rachel Berry show up to parties alone."_

"_Rachel Berry doesn't go to parties," She wrinkled her brow at me._

_I laughed at the adorable way she scrunched her nose when she was confused, "Exactly my point, Britt! If we don't go we will be like Man Hands! Do you want to be a loser? I sure as hell don't."_

_She pushed a hard breath through her nose and plopped down on the edge of my bed with her arms folded across her chest. She was officially pouting. I'm sure most people would tell her to grow up or make fun of her for being a 15-year-old who still huffs like a 5-year-old. But I found it endearing. It made me smile every time. Only Brittany knew how to soften me up and make me give in. Damn her. _

_We had just gotten home from school and this aforementioned party was the talk of everybody in school. Only the coolest of the cool were invited and thanks to Quinn's connections with the football team through her douchebag boyfriend, Finn, we were among only a few sophomore girls invited. I didn't want to miss out. That Jewfro kid had overheard Noah Puckerman bragging about how he was going to 'get with me' tonight and I didn't want to not be there. I wasn't exactly sure what was meant by the 'get with me' remark but I figured it probably just meant making out and some second base action. Puck was one of the hottest guys in school and getting in with the likes of him would shoot my popularity level through the roof. I don't care how conceited it made me sound. I wanted to be popular. I wanted to be more popular than Quinn. And I don't understand why Brittany is being so reluctant to it…she knows that I would never leave her behind. If I become popular, then she becomes popular because we're a package deal. Everybody knows it. _

_I sat down next to her on the bed and started to lightly rub circles over her Cheerios uniform on her back. I felt her entire body melt under my touch. I knew it would work. Just like she knows her pouting works on me, I know my back rubs will work for her. _

"_Come on, B," I coaxed, "for me? Why don't you want to go, for real? Don't say that you'll get teased because you know I'll beat the shit out of anybody who says anything mean to you."_

_She smiled and un-crossed her arms. It was working. She moved the hand closest to me on to my exposed thigh and laid her head on my shoulder. Her palm was warm on my leg and I could feel it's affect through my whole body. Brittany always made me feel warm. I wasn't sure why, but I certainly didn't hate it. _

_I gently rested my nose and lips on the top of her head, took in a quiet breath, and slowly closed my eyes. Her hair smelled like green apples. I loved that smell. She once asked me why I always smell her hair and I gave her that exact reason. I just love it. She had giggled and disappeared into her bathroom. Then, reappearing a moment later with an almost empty bottle of shampoo. She gave it to me and said that if I ever needed to smell the green apples and she wasn't around that I could just use that. I loved that. I keep the bottle on my dresser. She points it out every time she's over and makes a little quip about me 'smelling the apples,' but little does she know how often I actually do open that damn bottle and smell it. Almost every night before bed. The only time I don't is when she spends the night and I can just smell her head instead. _

"_I just don't want to be left alone," she finally admitted after a moment. The hand on my thigh had started to make tiny circles that matched the rhythm of my hand on her back. It tickled and made my stomach jump slightly. _

"_Left alone? B, why would I leave you alone?"_

"_Because you're going to be with Puck," she whined. She pulled her hand back from my thigh and my skin instantly ached for the warmth to return. She crossed her arms again. _

"_Well, Britt, we will just have to find you a guy to hang out with tonight, too," I lifted my head and bumped my shoulder against her head so she would look at me. When our eyes met I smiled as reassuringly as possible to make her feel like I was being honest. I'm always honest with her. _

_Her eyes fell down to her lap, "That's the problem, San. I don't know what I'm doing. I've never kissed a boy or anything."_

"_Britt, kissing is easy. You have nothing to be worried about. You'll be really good at it." _

"_How do you know? What if I do it wrong and it just gives them more reason to laugh at me?"_

_Her head fell back to my shoulder and she turned her face to nuzzle into my neck. I knew she was actually upset when she did this. I stopped rubbing circles on her back and wrapped both arms tightly around her body, bringing her in closer to me to comfort her. I wasn't really sure how to further convince her that she will be good at kissing. I understand why she's nervous. Hell, I was nervous my first kiss too. But Brittany is different than me. She's more sensitive. I didn't want her to have to go into this blind. _

"_B?" I whispered._

"_Hm?" She groaned back._

"_Do, um…do you want me to…show you?...how to kiss?" My voice cracked on the word kiss. I really hadn't given myself much time to process this thought before I started to say it out loud and my whole body tensed with nervousness as the words were spilling from my mouth. _

_My stomach flipped over at an incredible rate when I felt her head nod in the 'yes' motion and she pulled her face away from my neck to look into my eyes. We held the look for a moment. She was searching my eyes for something. I wasn't sure what. Maybe validation that this is an okay thing to do? Truth be told, I wasn't sure myself. I had kissed three boys before this and I had never once had my mind go blank or my hands shake like this. _

"_If it's okay," she started, "yes, I would like you to show me." Her eyes were bugged out and full of anticipation. I felt my whole body go hot. Even my palms were sweating. _

_She sensed my hesitation. "Is it not okay?" She asked as innocently as ever. What was I doing? It's Brittany. I can kiss Brittany. That's totally okay. She's my best friend. I love her. I'm doing this as a favor to my favorite person so we can go to the party tonight and have fun. Yes, this is okay._

"_Yes, this is okay," I reassured myself more than her. Our faces were already in close proximity so all I had to do was lean in. Both my arms were wrapped around her waist. Should I move one of my hands to the side of her face? Or her neck? Should I take my hands off her completely to not cross any lines? _

_Before I had the chance to decide what to do with my hands, Brittany had put one of hers on the side of my face and she gently rubbed her thumb over my cheek. _

"_This is the way they do it in the movies," she whispered. And without any hesitation on her part she leaned in and took my lips in hers. A rushing sensation in my stomach surged over my whole body and made my lower stomach muscles tighten…but in a good way. A way they never had before. _

_I instinctively deepened the kiss by tilting my head and parting my lips slightly. I lightly drug my tongue over her lower lip and she opened her mouth just enough to allow me entry. I softly pressed my tongue into her mouth and slowly massage her tongue with my own. _

_A breath caught in her throat. I had surprised her. She pushed her own tongue back with more force than I had used and she rhythmically dipped her tongue in and out of my mouth. She liked it._

_Our lips and tongues started moving faster and my grip around her waist tighten with each passing second. It was when she let out a small moan a moment later that I felt a throbbing between my legs. I quickly pinched my thighs together to make it stop but the pressure only made it intensify. I let out a shaky breath into her mouth as I felt my whole body getting even hotter. _

_She slowly pulled back from me after the breath and looked at me with a look of hers I had never seen before. What was that in her eyes? Desire? Did she want to keep kissing? What the hell was going on with my body? Why was it a thousand fucking degrees in my bedroom right now? Is this what being 'turned on' feels like? _

"_Is that what it's like with boys?" she asked, out of breath. _

"_Yes," I lied as I pulled my body away from hers—scared of what might happen if I continued to stay so close. _

"_Wow…" she breathed out as her eyes grew large like she had just discovered a whole new world she never knew existed. _

_And I was right there with her. Wow._


	2. Since I've Come On Home

**A/N: Okay so I had chapter 2 already finished and I figured why wait? The title of this chapter comes from the song _Valerie_. I noticed a few typos in the last chapter after I posted it and it was super frustrating for me so I will try to be better at that. Thanks for reading! **

******Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters in it.**

_**Chapter 2: Since I've Come On Home**_

The smell of McKinley High School's hallways intoxicates me in a good way. The floors are clean and the lockers are empty. All in preparation for school to start next week and a new year to begin. As I make my way slowly down the halls I once dominated I find myself taking deep breaths and really soaking in every scent. I can smell the milk crates in the lunchroom. When I used to say that to Brittany, she would always giggle and say I had a super sense of smell and I should be one the 'heroes' like Hayden Penittiere. But I swear it on my favorite pair of shoes that those damn milk crates have a specific smell that only gets stronger the closer you get to the cafeteria. I smile at the memory of having lunch here, at the smell I never thought I would miss so much, and at the thought of Brittany by my side every second I spent in these halls.

High school is weird in that way. While you're there you want nothing more than to be out and once you're out you spend the rest of your life wishing you could get back in with the 'woulda, shoulda, coulda's'. Emma Pillsbury once told me during one of my "attitude interventions" that I should be careful about who I tease and who I want to so desperately emulate because history has shown that the kids who are considered geeks, nerds, and losers tend to prosper after high school and lead fulfilling lives while their tormentors'—the 'cool' kids and athletes—reputations get locked within these walls and die the second they graduate. At the time I thought she was just another life-coach freak trying to trick me into being nice to the little minions that pissed me off every day. As I look back now and think about all the people whose lives peaked right here in the McKinley hallways and have, since then, based their whole lives on how 'cool' they had been in high school—Quinn, Finn, Puck…Me—I can see the truth in Ms. Pillsbury's words. She had given me fair warning and I still pissed it away. Awesome. Go me.

I find the office of the person I came to see in the first place and I smile at the name printed on the door: Mrs. Schuester. It's too weird for me to think of her as anything but Ms. Pillsbury, but I will humor her for today.

I knock on the slightly ajar door and take a step in as I question, "Mrs. Schuester?"

Emma Pillsbury looks up from her immaculately clean desk and smiles with such fervor that I can't help but laugh a little. She's the only person in the world who can't help being so genuinely nice. Well…she's one of two.

"Santana! Well, hi! What a nice surprise!" She motions to the chair in front of her desk. I close the door quietly, sit down politely and smile at her. Her smile grows even wider. She's thrilled at the fact that I'm being so courteous and gentle with my words and movements. I can practically see the wheels in her head turning at the realization that Santana Lopez has softened. I saw the same insight on Quinn's face yesterday when we met for shit coffee.

After a moment of silence and exchanging ridiculously big smiles she continues, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

I clear my throat and hesitate a moment, unsure of how to word this exactly.

"Well, I finished my Master's degree in May…" I trail off, still hesitant how to approach a topic that is sensitive to me. I hate showing vulnerability. I hate being weak.

She senses my dismay and continues for me, "Well, that's just wonderful, Santana! You finished a whole year early then, right?"

I fold my lips into my teeth and nod my head slowly. Yes, yes I know it's very impressive that I finished so much schooling in 5 years, but how impressive is it that I'm drowning less than 3 months later? New York was great for a college education but now I'm realizing that the adult world is more cut-throat than I had anticipated. My student loan repayments will kick-in in about 4 months and the money I make at Tami's will only be good enough to barely break even each month.

"Yeah…" I trail off. I've really never sought out advice from anybody with this stuff.

"I'm bad at this," I admit.

She nods her head in understanding and continues, "Sometimes the easiest way is to just blurt it out. Don't worry about how it'll sound until after it's done." She smiles and widens her eyes at me as a cue to continue. I'm sure she is just pissing her pants with excitement that Santana Lopez is in her office right now all dejected and lost. It proves that she was right all those years ago. Better late than never, I guess.

"How do I find a job? I mean… I know how. But…how? I can't even get interviews in New York. I'm working at a job that is getting me nowhere and it's making me resent the people I work with. I know it's stupid because they have nothing to do with it—it's just how I'm directing my anger. My lease for my apartment needs to be renewed September 1st so I have until then to decide and tell my roommates if I'm in or out. But if I'm 'out' what does that mean? I move back here? I mean Quinn looks happy. My parents are here. But all I ever wanted was to get out of Lima. Wouldn't I just be selling myself short by doing what I said I never would? Can I be happy here? Where would I work? Would the school hire me? But how? I would be looking for _your_ job! You're not going anywhere. So what? I just hang around Lima until you retire? That makes as much sense as staying in New York. Should I move somewhere else? Isn't it dangerous to move without the prospect of a job? Does any of this make sense?"

I sucked in a long breath and closed my eyes. Suddenly, I felt quite a bit better. I should have known that just getting it off my chest would help.

Emma's eyes were bugged out and she was staring intently at me, waiting for my breathing to regulate.

I sighed, "You probably think I'm going to be the worst guidance counselor in the world."

Her face softened and she laughed slightly, "Oh no, no, Santana. Typically the people who major in psychology are the ones most in-need of treatment. We don't like people nit-picking our idiosyncrasies, so we turn the attention on them," she looks down into her lap, "and perhaps it is to figure out ourselves a bit, too."

I feel my lips curl upward into a smile. I look around Emma's office. Not one thing out of place or a speck of dust in sight. Her OCD has had a grasp on her entire life and instead of letting it completely manipulate her she embraced it by using herself as a prime example to her students that it is okay to be different as long as you're happy. And, now, for the first time ever I respect the insanity that is Emma Pillsbury. I may not understand it completely, but I can definitely relate.

She looks up and sees me smiling so she smiles back.

"Thank you," I say as genuinely as I can.

She nods her head slightly and says, "You know, I haven't had much experience working with students post-graduation. Especially not post-college graduation so I'm not really sure how to direct you with your predicament."

"I know, I just…" I wave my hand at her trying to dismiss my entire rant, "I know it's something I need to figure out on my own. I really just came here to see if you had any suggestions for applying to schools for counselor jobs."

"Well, before we completely write-off your other apprehensions and problems, can I ask you a few questions?

"Yeah, I suppose." I shrug my shoulders.

"Do you want to live in Lima? It seems like you want to but aren't allowing yourself to say it because for so long you didn't want to."

I have zero response in my mind or my body to that comment so I just stare at her blankly and wait for her to continue.

She shuffles in her seat. I've made her uncomfortable.

"I don't want to touch a nerve with you, Santana, but it is okay to retract what we said and thought at 18-years-old. People grow up, become wiser, and learn more about themselves in adulthood than they had ever known before."

"What exactly are you saying?" I snapped. I was getting irritated even though I should be grateful. This is why I came here—for advice. Advice I didn't want to hear.

"I'm saying that if you're not happy in New York, why not try living back here? If you hate it here as much as you think you do, then you can leave again whenever you want." She pauses and I nod slightly to indicate that it's safe to continue, "It won't hurt anything to take a break from the big city life and spend some time back home with a stronger support system of family and friends."

She smiles gently and I swear her big blue eyes can see right through me. Everything she said made sense, but I really don't know if I can get over myself enough to actually take her advice. Especially now that I know Brittany is living back here. What happens if we see each other on a regular basis? Too hard. Way too hard.

"Okay," I humor her, "I will think about it."

"I will print off a copy of my cover letter and resume for you to use as a sample if you like, and after this you should stop down and talk to Coach Sylvester. She's retiring next year and Higgins wants to hire an assistant coach to shadow her this year and take over her responsibilities next year," she pauses to really let that last bit of information soak in and it worked, my whole body is erect and alert, "and the position still hasn't been filled."

She smiles mischievously and arches an eyebrow at me. I narrow my eyes at her. What a crafty little devil, Mrs. Emma Pillsbury Schuester has become. She gave me that whole lecture on 'why not live here?' just to spark my interests before dangling the bait right in front of me. I had a sudden urge to stand up and applaud her.

But I don't. Instead I wait patiently for her to print off the papers she promised me before I turn on my heels and b-line for Sue Sylvester's office on the other end of the school.

I was watching my feet as I moved quickly through McKinley halls. I didn't have time to stop when I saw a human shape step in front of me from an adjacent hall. We collided and I stumbled backwards two steps before regaining my composure.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I said quickly as I looked up.

The blue eyes that met mine hit me harder than the actual collision had.

"Hi Santana," Brittany said cheerfully. She smiled. The sound of her voice washed over and warmed my whole body.

I stared at her with my mouth slightly ajar. It wasn't until her brow wrinkled into a look of concern that I realized I probably looked as though I've seen a ghost.

"Uh, hi, Br—Brit. Brittany. Hi, Brittany," I stammered. Damn it, I sound like an idiot.

Her face softens at my ability to form words and she gives an excited bounce as she continues, "What are you doing here? Home for the reunion?"

I turn my head and look down the hall toward Sue's office and realized I was only about 20 steps away. I seriously contemplate just sprinting away from Brittany and this conversation to Coach Sylvester's door.

"San?" Brittany reaches out and touches my shoulder. The contact makes my body feel immediately weaker and I wonder if I'm going to faint. My eyes fall to the floor and I concentrate really hard on keeping my balance. Is this really happening? How had I not prepared myself for an accidental run-in at all during this trip? Stupid. So stupid. So incredibly fucking stupid.

"Are you okay?" she continues, "You look like you're going to be sick."

She's being genuine. She's always more concerned about me than herself. I suck in a calming deep breath to steady myself and I look up to meet those piercing eyes. I immediately feel more at ease and I let my face relax. I can feel a smile starting to form and I'm powerless to stop it.

Brittany sees this and doesn't even attempt to resist her own smile. All of her big, white teeth come into view and I let out a small laugh. I'm not sure why I laugh. I always do this. Everything Brittany does, even smiling, is so adorable and endearing to me. It used to be my favorite thing in the world to watch her get out of bed in the morning. Her hair was always ratted so much that it would be practically sticking straight up. She had a theory that the higher her hair stuck up, the better she had slept. She would get out of bed and go straight to the mirror to see if she had had a good night's rest. It took everything in me to not leap out of bed and squeeze her half-to-death when she did that. The adorableness of it all was just too much. So instead of squeezing her, I immediately took to giggling. Brittany had turned me into a giggling idiot years ago, and she apparently still had the same affect on me today.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say finally.

"What are you doing here?" she repeats.

"I'm here for the re—"

"Well, well, well…" I'm cut off by a third-party who has joined our conversation. Both our heads snap in the direction of the voice and I see none other than Sue Sylvester, clad in red track suit, leaning out of her office door and staring us both down.

"If it isn't Sandbags and her sidekick…together again?" Sue sneers. Neither of us say anything and so she continues as she steps into the hallway and slowly struts toward us, "Back to relive the glory days, girls? Gotta say, almost didn't recognize the two of you without those Cheerios uniforms. Without my ability to spot a fake chest from a mile away, I may have never known it was you."

Well this interview isn't starting off well for me. I make a mental note to put "my tits" under the category of "never going to live that down."

"I'm looking for Mr. Schuester," Brittany says nonchalant. Why would she be looking for him?

Sue is un-amused and emotionlessly replies, "I saw Wilma prancing around down by the music doors earlier. Can't miss that bouncing curly head of his even when there's acid in your eyes. Trust me. I tried."

"Thanks!" Brittany turns and starts to bounce off down the hallway. My heart speeds up as I watch her walk away. Shit, I think, it was too fast. It was all too fast. I wanted to at least say good bye to her. I felt the moment slipping away far too quickly while knowing that I was going to relive it over and over again in my head until the next time I saw her. I'm already mind-fucking myself into a tailspin.

As if Brittany could read my mind, she slowed her pace and turned back to me.

"Hey, San?" she spoke loudly down the hall to me.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"I will see you at the reunion, right?"

"Yes, B, of course I will be there," my tone softens. She doesn't respond, just smiles and turns back on her path down the hallway. Everything with Brittany is so easy. She had just shook me to my core a few minutes earlier and now our conversation had already become second nature.

A comfortable confidence engulfs me and I smile to myself. Brittany always has this affect on me, and now I will be able to walk into Coach Slyvester's office with a better attitude than I had had before.

"I hate to interrupt this beautiful moment you appear to be having with yourself, Sandbags, but I'm a busy woman," Sue brings me back to reality, "Now whom or what were you looking for?"

I turn and face her, "I was looking for you, Coach Sylvester."

_**Seven and a Half Years Earlier**_

"_You did what?" The blood drained my face and my entire body felt weak. No. 'Weak' is the wrong word. I felt sick. Disgusted. Violated. _

_Brittany saw the metamorphosis of my demeanor and she reached out to touch my shoulder. I jerked away quickly. I didn't want to be touched. I felt too gross to be touched. I wanted her to take it back. Take back what she had said and tell me it was a joke. A sick fucking joke. Then I could just shower this whole conversation off of me. _

"_I said I had sex with Matt," she repeated herself and answered my question._

"_Why," I demanded. It was amazing to me that just a moment ago we had been sitting here, on the floor of Sue's copy room, making posters for tomorrow's pep rally and laughing about how Brittany had gotten marker on her fingers and then wiped her face. She had put a purple streak across her cheek so I licked my thumb and was trying to wipe it off for her. And while I was holding her face in my hands she dropped the bomb like it was nothing. I had dropped my hands from her face. I couldn't touch her. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't understand why this hurt me so much. _

_I slowly backed myself away from her. Too many thoughts were racing through my mind. Images of her and Matt kissing on his bed. Flashes of him touching her. Touching her stomach. Pulling her shirt __over her head. Kissing her in places other than her mouth. Oh, god. Nausea was setting in. I swallowed hard._

"_Are you okay, San?" She sounded genuinely concerned. _

"_Not really," I was honest. _

"_What did I do wrong?" She sounded scared now. Terrified even. _

_Number one on Brittany's list of fears is hurting me. A few months ago in Foods class she had accidentally closed the silverware drawer really fast and hard on my thumb. I had yelled out in pain and whipped away from her so she wouldn't see the tears that had immediately sprung to my eyes. I was trying to protect her by doing that. Instead, it made her immediately assume that I hated her. I spent the rest of the evening and night at her house just holding her in my arms and running my fingers through her hair to assure her that I was fine and there was no way I could ever hate her. She cried and cried. It was like a faucet I couldn't turn off no matter how many times I said, 'Shh…it's okay, B.' It wasn't until I started kissing her forehead over and over again that she finally calmed down and drifted off to sleep. _

_Now all I could picture was Matt kissing her forehead…and more. _

"_Tell me what he did to you," I demanded. "I want to know everything. Every detail."_

"_Okay…"She looked down at her hands that were rested gently on her lap. I still wasn't fully looking at her, just stealing quick glimpses to try and read her body language. Had she enjoyed this? Is this was she wanted? What if she did to him what I did to Puckerman? I won't be able to handle that. I know I'm a hypocrite but I don't care. I can handle myself. I won't be taken advantage of and I can disconnect myself from the situation, but Brittany is vulnerable and emotional. She will feel everything. _

"_It was the other night when I went to his house to watch a movie with him. We were on the couch in his basement and it was after the movie was over…" She trailed off and paused for a long time. _

"_And?" It came out harsher than I had intended but I had too many feelings coursing through my body to control. _

_She sniffled. _

_I finally looked at her full-on and saw that she was crying. Crying hard. Her cheeks were soaked and the purple marker smear was running down to her chin. _

_I suddenly felt sick again, but for a different reason. I was completely selfish. I had had sex with Puck a number of times since that party six months ago—the night Brittany and I had first kissed. I knew exactly why I was doing it, too. I was desperately searching for that feeling. That feeling I had gotten with Brittany where my whole body felt on fire and every muscle contracted with pure desire. Why did I only get it with her and not with him? I had seriously considered trying a few different guys to see if Puck was the problem, but I just hadn't wanted to yet. _

_Brittany and I had kissed three times since that night and she had initiated all of them. _

_The first was just a week later. We were watching TV after school in my parent's living room and she brought up the party and how she had kissed Matt. She thought she had done it wrong because it didn't feel the same with him as it did with me and could I show her again? I reminded her that it was purely for educational purposes, but I hesitated a lot less this time. In fact, we kissed for a solid two minutes before I heard my mom's keys in the door and quickly pulled away. Her face was as red as mine felt. I had gotten hot, again. Really hot. She asked if it was the same with her as it was with Puck. I said yes. _

_The second was over a month after that because she said she didn't know where to put her hands when making out with boys. She had been out with more than just Matt at this point and said she still didn't feel like she was doing it right. We made out for ten minutes straight in the back of my car while she slowly dragged her nails up and down my back over my Cheerios uniform and I put my hands on the side of her face and tangled them in her long, blonde hair after things started to get more intense. We were interrupted by her cell phone going off and scaring us both half-to-death. _

_The third time was last month while we were lying on her bed on a Friday night with nothing to do. Truthfully, I had just started to drift off to sleep when she said that she didn't know how to kiss a boy's neck. This time, I didn't ask any questions. I just rolled over on top of her and straddled her body. She instinctively put her hands on my back, but this time she ran them up my tank top and on to my bare skin. The skin-to-skin connection made my stomach tighten so hard that it made me want to take my shirt completely off, but I resisted. I was pretty sure that that would be crossing the line. We were doing this for learning only. I had leaned down and gently kissed and nipped at her neck for a few seconds, and then asked if she wanted to try it. She nodded yes and in one fluid motion, had flipped me on to my back with her now on top. She leaned down and gently grazed her tongue just below my ear. It had all happened so fast that my mind couldn't keep up with everything my body was feeling and before I had a chance to stop it, a moan had escaped my lip. I was scared that she would say something but she didn't. She didn't stop either. The moan had encouraged her and she started kissing harder and lower. She kissed all the way down to my collarbone and after a few minutes she laid her head down on my shoulder, curled her body up next to mine, and fell asleep. _

_Each kiss had gotten more intense and made me want her more. I hadn't had time to process all of it in my head. I don't know why I wanted Brittany more than Puck or any other guy. I don't know why the thought of her with Matt made me physically ill. And I certainly don't know why she is the only person I think about every minute of every day. _

_I have never been one to really sort out my feelings. Instead, I would just rather do what feels good now and pay for it later. So what would feel good right now? Certainly not hearing about Matt and Brittany having sex, and definitely not watching my best friend cry. _

"_B…" I scooted closer to her and instinctively started to wipe the tears off the sides of her face, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."_

"_I-I'm s-sor-ry," she choked out. _

_I couldn't take it anymore. I hate when she cries and a kiss on the forehead won't do it this time. I hold both sides of her face still until she looks up at me. Our eyes lock and all I can think about is how I can smell the Green Apples in her hair. _

_She's about to say something but I stop her with my lips. I gently open my mouth and move my tongue into hers. She reciprocates by grabbing my sides and deepening the kiss. I feel that throbbing sensations between my legs, but this time I don't try to force it away. I like it and I wonder if Brittany has the same thing going on with her body. _

_She pulls away from the kiss and says, "What am I learning about this time?"_

_I decide I'm not going to bullshit her about this anymore. "Nothing, Brit. I'm kissing you because I like kissing you. We're best friends. It's okay for us to kiss."_

_She smiles at me, "So I don't have to come up with things that I need to learn anymore? I can just kiss you when I want?"_

_My face registers in realization. She had been using excuses for a reason to kiss me. She knew I needed to think that I was helping her in some way or I wouldn't do it. I smile back at her, loving that she knows me better than I know myself sometimes. _

"_Yes, you can kiss me whenever you want," I say and then quickly add, "as long as we're alone." _

_She leans in toward me again and just before her lips are about to touch mine she whispers, "We're alone right now." _


	3. Back To What You Knew

**A/N: Thanks so much to the people who reviewed. It definitely motivated me to write more this week. Also, I forgot to mention this with the first chapter, I took some liberties with this story. For example, I made Tina a year older and I changed some of the other characters' after high school plans. So, if you're confused by those things—don't be. It's just me doing what I want...because I can. The name of this chapter comes from the song _Back to Black_.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters in it. **

_**Chapter 3: Back to What You Knew **_

"It's fitting that the reunion is at Breadstix, don't ya think?" Quinn smiles at me as the boy behind the counter hands her our coffees.

"Yeah, sure," I say as I eagerly reach for my cup. I can't believe that I've actually been craving this shit since I woke up this morning. Not just coffee. Lima Bean coffee.

"So should we sit here for a bit and be fashionably late or do you wanna get going?" She asks innocently, but I know better. Quinn wants us to wait and be later than everybody else so all eyes are on us when we enter the specially reserved backroom of Breadstix. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only one who hangs on to my high school status longer than I should.

"We can sit for a bit. I want to savor this anyway," I motion to my cup.

"Not so 'shitty' anymore, is it?" She smiles.

"It's still shit just…less repulsive than before. My taste buds must be building up a tolerance." I say as we settle on to a couple of bar stools at a tall table by the window.

"So you never really told me what your thoughts were on running into Brittany the other day," Quinn's eyes focus in on my face as if she can read even my tiniest reaction to her bringing up Brittany. My chest falls as I let out a long breath. I really didn't want to talk about this now, especially since I was trying so hard not to think about the fact that I'm going to be seeing her again in a matter of minutes.

"I'm not sure what I think," I say vaguely.

"Well…are there still feelings there? I mean, you two were pretty hot and heavy for a _long_ time. I don't know if that stuff just disappears."

"Are there still feelings with you and Puck?" I snap back quickly, "You were pretty hot and heavy. And Finn?"

"Whoa, whoa Santana," she holds up her hands in defense, "slow down. I wasn't trying to offend you. And if you must know, yes." She takes a deep breath and looks out the window into the street that is so dark now that there's no way she can see anything but her own reflection. But maybe that's what she wants to see. "Yes, there are still feelings from time to time," she continues, "Maybe not feelings so much as…reminiscences about how young love used to feel. Or maybe just being young, in general."

I scrunch my forehead in response and look Quinn up and down. She must have spent hours on her hair and make-up for tonight's big event. She's wearing a casual looking sundress but it's anything but that. My guess is that she spent days in her own closet this last week trying to find the perfect outfit before finally going out and buying a new one. I'm the only one who would actually know these things about Quinn, though. She comes off as very graceful and blessed with natural beauty and elegance. If only all of those girls who envied her in high school knew how much she actually _tried_, they might relate to her rather than put her on a pedestal. A handful of those girls will be there tonight ooing and awing over how amazing Quinn Fabray still looks. This really is her forte and the moments she lives for. I turn my head and look at my own reflection in the window and I can't decide who's more sad; her for wanting this night or me for wanting to avoid it. I guess we're both still childish.

"We're still pretty young, Quinn," I respond.

Quinn's eyes drift away from the window and back to me. I'm not sure if she's still waiting on a response about the Brittany thing or not but I don't plan on giving her one.

"Are you excited about seeing anybody in particular?" I deflect.

She jerks her head back and meets my eyes quickly with a look that I rarely see on Quinn. Her eyes are panicked. Or anxious. Maybe both? What was this all about? She's with Sam and it can't be that she has anxiety with either Finn or Puck because she sees them on a regular basis.

Quinn slowly dropped her eyes and it looks like she might actually be contemplating an answer for me. I'm tempted to push with another question but I'm scared she will turn the conversation back to me and my hang up over Brittany.

She glances at her watch and says, "We should get going." Looks like this will be a conversation for another time.

"All right," I say defeated, "Is Sam meeting us there?"

"Yeah, he wanted to go with Finn and Puck," she rolls her eyes. "That bromance will never die."

I casually drop the half-drank shit coffee into the trash as we walk out the door, "Is he taking you home then?"

"Yeah, he will because after a couple drinks I'm actually more important than the boys."

"Because you put out?" I inquire as I slide into my driver's seat.

"Ugh, you make me sound vulgar and sleezy. I'm his girlfriend, it's okay for us to have sex." She clicks on her seatbelt.

"I'm not saying you're disgusting in any way," I retaliate, "I just think you should be important ALL the time…not just for sex time." I smile at her cutely and turn the ignition.

"Aw, look at you. Sweet Santana looking out for her friend…are you drunk already?" She jokes as I push the brake pedal and shift the car from Park to Drive.

"By the way," she continues, "have you found a place to stay while your parent's redo the…whatever it is they're redoing?"

I sigh, "No, not yet. I'm hoping to butter up some old friends tonight." I smile at her and turn out of the parking lot on to Main Street toward Breadstix Restaurant.

* * *

So fucking cliché. Those are the only words in my whole damn head. A shiny banner? Streamers? There's a fucking punchbowl—which Puck already spiked. SO fucking cliché that it's making me nauseous to even be here with this fake smile plastered on my face. Well…now that I'm a few drinks in the smile might not be quite so fake anymore. This was the first moment that I had had to myself since I walked in the door and I was just now noticing the decorations.

I had spent the last couple hours socializing rather well, I thought. I had smoothly avoided the douchebags I didn't want to talk to or even see and I had at least exchanged a few sentences with almost every former Glee member. It had started at the door with Mercedes and Tina squealing the second they saw Quinn and me enter. Hugs all around. Mercedes loves LA. She worked as a back-up singer for about a year before deciding to give college a shot and majored in vocal music. Tina is happily married and living in Cincinnati. About the time Tina started talking babies with Quinn is when I ducked out of that conversation.

I had casually slipped over to where Sam and Finn were standing. Sam was arguing that Christopher Walken is definitely his best impression to which Finn argued it was his James Earl Jones one. When they both looked to me to be the tie breaker I was tempted to ask if he could 'play dead' and that would be a definite winner. I resisted temptation since I was only on my first drink. Once Puck showed up with an overly bitchy Sugar at his side, I said a few 'hi, how are ya's', exchanged hugs and bailed on them too.

Next, I saw Mike, Artie, Kurt, and Rachel sitting at a table that only had one chair left. That was where I needed to be—at a table with no possibilities of any more people. Plus, my back would be to the crowd so I didn't have to keep anxiously searching for Brittany's blonde head. After I sat down I really enjoyed getting to talk to Artie and Mike about the west coast. Mike was really doing quite a bit with his dancing and Artie was well on his way to being the next Ryan Murphy. Plus, I had missed getting to talk to Kurt on a regular basis. I like him so much better without stupid Blaine attached to his side. His current boyfriend, Anthony, is definitely a keeper. I met him once up in New York and knew within minutes that they were lifers. Rachel, surprisingly, didn't talk much which was a good thing for my liver. She had been staring longingly over my shoulder and into the crowd ever since I sat down. My guess is that she had a clear shot of Finn the whole time. I actually had some sympathy for her then…if I had been able to see Brittany the whole time, I wouldn't be talking either. I'm not sure how long I had been sitting there with them but I had seven empty drink glasses in front of me and our table was littered with tiny plates from the free appetizers buffet.

I know people were starting to get drunk because the lights were dimmed and the music turned up. Mike and Artie excused themselves from the table to go dance. This was bad news for me because now there were empty chairs and I was going to be forced to turn around and look at the crowd. I wasn't sure if Brittany was even here yet.

Rachel got up and walked away from the table, quickly followed by Kurt. I stood up and turned to walk toward the dance floor and join Artie and Mike, but my feet and my brain weren't communicating properly and I side-stutter stepped. I hadn't stood up in awhile and it was catching up to me. I found my balance and steadied myself. That's when I noticed the fucking cliché decorations.

Well I may as well make the most of it and just keep drinking, I think, as I order another Malibu and Diet Coke from one of the waiters that have been assigned to our party as he walks by me.

"Make this one a double," I wink at the boy who can't be more than 19-years-old. I'm hoping drunken flirtations from a slightly older girl will earn me quicker service and much stiffer drinks.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of a blonde head bouncing toward me. Shit. I should have ordered a triple. Or quadruple. Or…vodka rocks.

"Hi, Santana!" Brittany excitedly jumps in front of me.

"Well shit, B, I didn't even know you were here!" I give her shoulder a playful slap. I can tell by the look on her face that she knows I'm drunk.

"You're drunk," she smiles and looks down at her feet.

"Pffft," I spit out as I wave a dismissing hand, "No way!"

She laughs as she puts a guiding hand on my shoulder and eases me back into my chair at the table I had just stood up from.

"You're definitely drunk. You curse a lot more when you're drunk."

"I curse a lot anyway;" I push her shoulder again, "your theory is flawed."

She pulls out the chair next to me and settles into it, "You also push and slap a lot more when you're drunk." She's smiling at me so I know she's not mad.

The waiter is back with my quadruple drink. He bends down to hand it to me, but Brittany quickly intercepts it.

"Actually, this is mine and if you could just bring her a water that would be great." The waiter nods his head and disappears again. My eyes are heavy and my head is dizzy and so I rest it in my hand as I stare at Brittany. She takes a sip of the drink she stole and her face registers to surprise.

"What?" I laugh, "Too strong?"

"That…" she starts, "and I wasn't expecting Malibu/Diet."

"Why not?" I smile, "It's what I always drink."

"I know that..." she trails off and then continues, "I guess I just figured you had changed. But I'm glad you didn't." She added the last part quickly.

The waiter came back with my water and Brittany grabbed a plate of food that had been sitting in front of Rachel from the other side of the table.

"Here," she instructed, "eat this and drink that…it'll sober you up a bit so we can actually talk."

"Maybe you just need to get drunker," I flirt.

She cocks an eyebrow at me and quickly accepts the challenge by downing my entire Malibu/Diet in 2 gulps. The waiter, who was still standing there and about to ask if we needed anything else, was bug-eyed with surprise.

"I'll have another one of these," Brittany handed him the glass and he scooted away quickly. She turned her attentions back to me, "You have to drink this water and eat that plate of food though! I'll have one more of those drinks and after a bit we should be at about the same level." She winks at me. I can feel my face getting warm and turning red. With anybody else I could blame it on the alcohol, but Brittany knows better.

I was about to suggest that we go dance when I heard an unmistakably smooth voice fill the room. Somebody had turned on the Karaoke machine and handed the microphone to Rachel. I roll my eyes with annoyance. Of course she would be the first to sing.

"Looks like they got her talked into it," Brittany said nonchalantly with her eyes fixed on Rachel.

"What do you mean?" I scoff, "You can't possibly think she actually _fought_ the opportunity to sing for a crowd, can you?"

The waiter returned with Britt's second drink. She thanked him and turned her focus back to me. With a defensive tone she stuck up for Rachel, "She did fight it, San. Kurt and Tina kept pushing her and saying she had to the be the one to start it."

I frowned at Brittany's defensiveness, "What's wrong?"

She took a drink and shook her head as if dismissing the conversation. She didn't want to get into it. She obviously knows something about Rachel that I don't which, oddly, kind of makes me jealous. What's going on with Rachel? I turn my head and squint at the tiny brunette who was well into the second verse of her song. I recognized the song but in my drunken state I couldn't think of the name.

"Didn't she sing this song in Glee once?" I inquire.

"No," Brittany smiles and turns her focus from Rachel back to me, "Quinn sang it."

A light bulb went off. Never Can Say Goodbye by The Jackson 5. I can't believe I stumbled over that. Rum makes me stupid. I need to go home before I get dumber. I remember the day Quinn sang this song. She changed all the pronouns from 'girl' to 'boy' but Rachel is staying true to the original. And she is singing the shit out of this song. I think about how pissed Quinn must be right now and laugh slightly.

"What's funny?" Brittany smiles at me. Her smile makes my stomach flutter and suddenly I could give two shits what kind of mood Quinn Fabray is in.

I smile back and drop my eyes to my lap, "Nothing."

She leans over and playfully nudges my shoulder with her own.

I look up and meet her crystal blue eyes and sigh, "So...what made you move back to Lima?"

"Who told you I moved back? Have you been checking up on me?" She winks. I was powerless to stop the smile that invaded my face. How is it that she's the only person in the world who can turn me into such a mushy pile of goo?

The song ends and Sam and Puck race to the microphone to be the next in line. I turn my face to see who won and I immediately felt a hand under my chin. Britt turns my face back toward her own.

"I was just playing around, San. I moved back here because being away from home was too overwhelming." She pulls her hand back and lowers her gaze as if she had accidentally revealed something she hadn't meant to.

"Britt-" I start.

"It's fine. I'm not sad or anything. I mean, I guess, sometimes I'm a little upset that I wasn't good enough to make it like Rachel or Kurt," her eyes meet mine again, "or you. But I like living here. Small town life is relaxing. I know that I always have people who have my back and I can trust my neighbors enough to leave my car unlocked."

Me? She thought that I was making it? No...made it. Even worse.

"Plus, look at that," she continues and motions toward Puck holding the Karaoke microphone and serenading the whole crowd. He has everybody's undivided attention. People are swaying. Smiling. After every few lines Sugar gives a loud 'whoop!' of encouragement. "Puck isn't a famous singer. And he never will be. But, look! He's a celebrity here. Everybody loves him. That's how I feel when I'm home and it makes moving back totally worth it."

I felt a breath hitch in my throat as everything Brittany had said completely resonates on so many levels. This conversation is about to take a serious turn and I'm not ready to go there. I'm not ready to be vulnerable. Not with Brittany.

"Yeah...I guess you're right," I say quietly.

"Quinn told me that you need a place to stay," she changes the subject. She must have sensed my uneasiness and changed it for me.

"Did she now?" I raise a playful eyebrow, "Now who's checking up on who?"

"I'm not ashamed that I ask about you," she reaches over and touched the top of my hand with her own. The heat from her hand on mine causes my whole body to react. I close my eyes for a moment to let the feeling of being close to Brittany wash over me.

"Yes," I answer finally, "I do need a place to stay the rest of the week. Would you mind if I stayed with you?" As soon as the words left my mouth I knew it was a bad idea. Too many temptations. Being in the same town was hard enough, but the same house? Especially with the signals she's been giving me since I ran into her at McKinley, I have no faith in myself to not try to seduce her. My body throbs at the mere thought.

"Of course you can stay with me, Santana. I was actually kind of sad that you hadn't asked me earlier," she looked at me shyly.

My heart speeds up instinctively.

"We should go dance with everyone else," I motion toward the crowd of bodies moving in rhythm with Puck's voice.

"Sure!" she says excitedly and grabs my hand.

The rest of the reunion was a drunk mess of dancing, singing, and laughing. And truthfully, I loved every minute of it. Almost everybody took a turn with the microphone—even a bunch of non-glee club members which was kind of refreshing. Rachel's rendition of a song that Quinn had sang back in glee club days started a nice little competition among the rest of us. We would pick songs that had been sung by others and try to destroy their former glory. Nothing like a little friendly competition, right?

Britt sang _Trouty Mouth_ to Sam and in response I sang _I'm a Slave 4 U_ to her. I did my best to dance around in a sexy fashion. Well, as much as the microphone cord would allow me to. Brittany was fist pumping and cheering me on the whole time. After I hit the final note and dropped the mic, I fell forward into Britt's arms laughing so hard that I couldn't catch my breath. This was the most fun I had had in a long, long time.

Around 11 o'clock the waiters and waitresses started to alert people of the last call for the night. I had almost forgotten that restaurants in small towns actually close at night and if people wanted to continue to drink, they'd have to migrate to the bars.

"All right, well I guess that means we have time for one last singer," Tina announces into the microphone after finishing her version of _Losing My Religion_.

Quinn quickly steps up for the first time. I'm surprised to see her because I thought she left after Rachel sang. My guess is that she wants to step up and show everybody that she's not pouting about Rachel out singing her. Rachel hadn't taken the mic since that first song, though, either. The song starts in a slow way as people shuffle toward their coats and purses. She chose Paramore's _The Only Exception, _which Rachel sang in Glee. I roll my eyes. I swear those two will never grow up and get past this ridiculous competition they've had going for as long as any of us can remember.

"Want me to drive you home? Or are you heading to the bars with the rest of the group?" Brittany interrupts my thought process.

"Well..." I trail off mauling my options over in my head. I know that I still have a very strong buzz and it would be fun to join the group for a few more hours of drinks and debauchery.

"If it helps your decision any, I'm just going to go home," she smiles at me.

"And why is that, Miss Pierce?" I challenge.

"Because I only had that one drink. I left the other on the table once we started dancing and I don't want to get roped into playing taxi cab for everybody."

I totally understood her reasoning. There was a Lima Late Night Taxi that took people home on the weekends. Why be the friend who gets slobbered on and has to stay up late for the better good? Except I know Brittany and she loves to be the better good. She was actually thinking about the people who owned the taxi and stealing their business. I thought back to the time I argued that she was everything good in this miserable stinking world. It still holds true.

After I pause for a minute, she tries to quickly correct herself, "But, I will totally come get you after bar close. If that's what you want?"

I smile and grab her hand, "Nah, I'm ready to go home, B. You don't mind driving me?"

"Not at all," she tightens her grip on my hand. Now, maybe I am over reading things on account of almost an entire bottle of rum swishing itself around in my blood stream, but I could swear that the tall blonde was being just flirty enough to give me the green light.

I took a quick glance around the room. Quinn was still singing. Most of the rest of the glee club members were scattered throughout the room and watching her silently. Other people from our class were slowly dispersing and heading toward the exits. Not a single person was paying attention to Brittany and me. I turn my attention back to her and give her hand a return squeeze.

Before I can stop myself or over think the situation I gently pull on her arm to bring her closer to me. I catch the rest of her body with my other arm and stand on my tip toes to push my lips into hers. I hold my breath as I wait for a reaction from her. She moves her bottom lip slightly as if she is about to accept the kiss, but then pulls back quickly.

"San, we should wa-"

I push myself away from her in sudden realization of what I just did. My stomach tightens at the touch of our lips. My body is telling me to push forward. Kiss deeper. Touch more skin. Let her touch me. But, more importantly, that intensity my body feels at the touch of Brittany's lips woke my brain up. What the fuck am I doing? I've been in town for less than 2 days and I'm already in a downward spiral of self-inflicted emotional abuse. I know how this is going to end before it even begins. I can't have mindless sex with Brittany. I've tried. It doesn't work when there are so many feelings involved.

"Santana, what is it?" Brittany moves forward.

"Nothing," I take a step back, "I'm sorry I don't know why I did that. Can you just give me a ride home now?"

I don't look up at her. I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"Yes, of course," she says quietly. She is obviously confused by my reaction to my own advances and then withdrawals. Hell, I was confused too.

The car ride home was harshly quiet. I stared out the passenger side window and listened to the radio, trying hard to focus on the words in the music and not on the fact that I had made a total ass of myself.

Once we reached my parent's house Brittany put the car into park and sat quietly for a moment.

"So...what time will I see you tomorrow?" she asks softly.

"Um...I'm supposed to have coffee with Quinn in the morning and then I will probably head over. So, probably around lunch or a little after? Is that okay?" I ask tentatively.

"Yeah, I am meeting up with Mike and Artie for lunch and then I'm taking them to see my studio so I might not be home until late afternoon or supper time. I will leave the key under the mat and you can just make yourself at home."

"Okay," I finally turn my head and force a half-smile, "Thanks for the ride, B."

"Good night, San."

I get out of the car and have definitively decided that there is no way I can stay at her house.

_**Seven Years Earlier **_

_ Brittany's soft lips made a small popping noise as she trailed wet kisses down my neck. I instinctively let my head fall back and enjoyed the overwhelming sensation that took over my now trembling body. _

_ We had been taking things a little further than just kissing the last few weeks. Everyday we would have Cheerios practice followed by Glee practice followed by supper at either her house or mine. Then, we would do our homework together, fool around, and one of us would go home to go to bed and sleep separately. On the weekends we rotated who's house we would stay for the two full days. _

_ Everything was routine in order to keep outside suspicions at bay. Everything, that is, except for the actual kissing and fondling. It was a brand new experience every night. At first, Brittany was hesitant about letting her hands roam over my body while we kissed. She would break the kiss to look into my eyes and ask, 'is this okay?' before continuing. I had picked up on her hesitancy after a couple nights in a row and finally just started forcing her face back into mine the second I felt her pull away. She froze at first, but then, as if she had read my mind just continued until I told her to stop._

_ Except I've never had to say stop. We just seem to have this mutual agreement where we understand the perfect time to slow things down. _

_ As her kisses trailed down my neck and my breathing became more pronounced, I felt her hands slip under my Cheerios uniform top and on to my sides. _

_ "Britt, wait..." I breathed out heavily. _

_ She pulled back immediately with a guilty look. Not only had I never stopped her before but I also have let her go much further than this. _

_ I touched my fingers to her lips before she could apologize, "Shh..." I cooed, "I don't want to stop, I just want this thing off." I reached behind my back and unzipped the top of my uniform before swiftly pulling it over my head. _

_ "And..." I arched an eyebrow at her, "I want yours off, too." I reached behind her back and unzipped. She helped me pull hers over her head. _

_ This was much faster than it had been all week. Just two days ago was the first time we actually took our bras off. The feeling of Brittany's naked chest pressed against mine had caused me to moan and push our bodies closer together while I deepened our kiss. Afterwords, she told me that she liked when I moaned because it felt like she was doing a good job. I was half-tempted to tell her that it was impossible to do a bad job and I was moaning because I liked it so fucking much. _

_ She leaned forward to kiss me again but I pulled back, "The bra, too, B," I said matter-of-factly. _

_ Her face reddened, "Are you going to take yours off?" _

_ I leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, "Of course I am." I folded my arms behind my back and unclasped my bra, letting it slide down my shoulders. _

_ She sat back a bit and let her eyes fall over the length of my body. I didn't feel the way I had when Puck or any of those other guys oogled me. Britt's longing stare was filled with admiration and compassion. I leaned forward and touched my lips to the top of her forehead. With my nose buried in the front of her hair, I sucked in a deep breath. Green Apples. I nuzzled in harder, wanting that smell to enclose my entire body. _

_ "You're so beautiful, San," she said softly. I pulled back and looked into her eyes. I could see it plain as day. She loved me. She loved me harder than anyone had before and more than anyone probably would in the future. _

_ "We can stop now if you're uncomfortable," I lovingly ran my fingers through her long hair. _

_ "No, I don't want to stop," she said roughly. Before my mind had time to register Brittany had taken off her own bra and unzipped the back of her skirt. She stood up from the edge of the bed where we had been sitting and let the skirt fall to the floor. _

_ She paused only a second before grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. She reached around and unzipped the back of my skirt, too, letting it slide down my legs to the floor. _

_ We stood for a few seconds just staring into each others eyes. We were down to just our underware—the most naked we had ever been. I was equal amounts terrified and excited. _

_ Apparently I had hesitated too long because panic had started to rise in Brittany and it was plainly obvious when she finally whispered, "Is this okay?"_

_ "Is the door locked?" I asked._

_ She nodded her head yes and I didn't feel the need to answer with words anymore. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her waist. The warmth at the contact of our two bodies made my breath hitch in my throat and my heart beat accelerate. I turned Brittany's body and walked her backwards to the edge of the bed until she sat down. _

_ As I started to crawl on top of her, she laid back and slid further into the middle of the bed. I hovered above her using my arms as leverage. Our legs were intertwined and I could feel that she was wet on my thigh. I slowly pushed my hips forward and applied pressure where our bodies met. She let out a shaky breath that she had been holding and it sent shivers down my spine. _

_ I wasn't sure if I should try it again until I felt her fingers snake up my sides and around my back. She gripped on to my exposed skin and pulled me forward again. This time, I felt her hips buck upward and the leg she had between mine pushed into me. My arms gave away slightly and I gasped. _

_ We locked eyes and without a word we both started to move our hips to a slow rhythm that sent jolts of electricity through my stomach and arms. I was breathing heavily now. Brittany pulled her head forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I reciprocated hungrily by pushing my whole body into her and deepening the kiss with my tongue. She moaned and pushed back against me. _

_ I felt a familiar building up in my lower stomach with each thrust of Brittany's hips. I knew what it was like to orgasm by my own hand but I had never come even close with another person. I quickened the pace of my thrusting against her and started to drag my tongue down her neck. She moaned again, louder this time. I knew that I should have shushed her, but I only found it to be encouraging. So I pushed harder and started to circle with my hips knowing the affect it was having on her body. _

_ I relentlessly gyrated against her over and over again. I felt her fingers tighten on my back. I leaned down next to her ear and gently nipped at her ear lobe. The speed of her hip thrusts quicken and she pulled against me with her hands to keep the sensation in tact. I could tell by her erratic breathing and hot skin that she was close. All it took was another deep circle of my hips and a hard kiss on her neck to send her over the edge. She gasped loudly and thrust hard into me. Her fingernails dug into my back and her body shook against mine. I wrapped an arm under her and held her in that position for beat before slowly lowering her back on to the bed. _

_ Her breathing was ragged and her body went limp. I held myself steady above her and smiled—waiting for her gaze to meet mine. _

_ She reached up and touched the side of my face and looked deeply into my eyes. She smiled and I wondered if she could see that I loved her the same way she loved me with just one look. _

_ "Are you okay?" I whispered. _

_ She nodded lazily, "Has that ever happened to you?" _

_ I laughed slightly as I rolled to the side of her and propped my head on one hand, "Depends on what you mean." _

_ She frowned in confusion, "I mean...that was—have you ever—with someone-"_

_ "Britt," I laughed quietly, "yes I've had an orgasm before. Just not with someone else." I gently started to rub circles on her still-exposed stomach. Then I was the one who was confused, "Have you ever had one before that?" _

_ She glanced away shyly and shook her head. Suddenly, I felt like the coolest fucking person on the planet. I leaned down and kissed her cheek softly, "Well, I'm glad I got to show you how awesome it can be." _

_ "What does all of this mean?" She asked innocently. _

_ "What does what mean?" I asked as I started to get up and reach for my clothes. _

_ "Well...you said it was okay for us to kiss and be friends, right?"_

_ "Right..." I said slowly as I clasped my bra back on. _

_ "Well, what about what we just did?"_

_ I pulled my uniform top over my head and frowned at her. Where was she taking this? _

_ "I mean," she continued quickly, "are we still friends if we do stuff like this?" _

_ "Messing around with someone doesn't mean you're dating them, Brittany," I said with a huff as I reached down and pulled up my skirt. _

_ "Did we just have sex?" _

_ My stomach tightened, "No, Britt. That was just messing around." _

_ "Then what is sex with two girls?" She was now sitting pretzel style in the middle of the bed, topless. _

_ With anyone else, I would have been irritated by the unyielding questions and constant need for reinforcement. But with Brittany I had to have patience. I'm the only person in the world that she trusts with questions and I'm the only one who refuses to call her stupid. Sometimes, she plays on my nerves, though. Like, right now. But I would damned if I let myself hurt her for being curious. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath to calm myself so I wouldn't blow up. _

_ "Sex with two girls is with hands," I say, "and mouths." _

_ She smiles at the knowledge, "Oh, okay...so like oral sex?" _

_ I laugh, "Yes, B, like oral." _

_ "Why are you putting on your clothes?" _

_ "Because I need to get home. Its past 9 and my dad gets mad when I stay this late." _

_ "So...next time, can I make you feel the way you made me feel?" She looked down at her hands, which were playing with the comforter on the bed. _

_ I smiled and crawled to the middle of the bed next to her. I lifted her face in my hands and said, "We can do whatever you're comfortable with." I leaned in and kissed her lips softly. I felt her shiver. _

_ I pulled back just enough to see her eyes._

_ "Will we ever have sex?" she asked in a whisper. _

_ My stomach fluttered at the thought of Brittany touching me in that way. She's so gentle and passionate with all of her movements while we kiss that I can't imagine her being anything but an amazing lover. I want to touch her and feel her body react that way to mine again. I want her to touch me and make mine do the same. _

_ "Yes," I answered knowingly. _

_ She smiled and leaned forward for another soft kiss. I smiled back at her and started to slide myself off the bed. _

_ I stood up and straightened out my uniform so no foul play can be suspected. I threw my book bag over my shoulder and was about to exit when Brittany has just one last question. _

_ "What about sex and dating?" _

_ "What do you mean?" I asked even though I already knew what she was asking. I walked swiftly to the door, unlocked it, and put my hand on the knob—ready to make a quick exit before I had to answer anymore uncomfortable questions. _

_ "Does having sex me-"_

_ "Sex is not dating," I cut her off sharply. I hadn't even turned around to look at her when I said it. _

_ She didn't say anything as I turned the knob and pulled the door slightly open._

_ "Sex is not dating," I repeated quietly for good measure before I slipped through the door and shut it behind me. _


	4. Ever I Lay With You

**A/N: Thanks again to the people who reviewed. I might be a little slow on the uptake after this chapter because I need to pick up the slack in other parts of my life. Unless, of course, the reviews are just so overwhelmingly awesome that I have no choice but to drop everything and write. No pressure, though. The title of this chapter comes from the song _The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face_.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the characters in it. **

_**Chapter 4: Ever I Lay With You **_

"You look like hell," I greet Quinn honestly as she enters Lima Bean.

"Ever the charmer, Santana. Thanks. Good morning to you, too." She rolls her eyes at me and walks past the table I have by the door to order a coffee.

When she returns a moment later and settles into her seat across from me, she finally looks me in the eyes. I wasn't joking before. The girl looks like shit. She's either hungover, sleep deprived, or spent all last night bawling her eyes out. Maybe all three.

"Okay, Fabray, spill it," I demand as I take a hefty gulp of my shit coffee.

"Spill what?" shes asks, "And are you drinking _two_ coffees?"

"Spill whatever the hell it is that has you all...gross looking," I smirk, "And yes, I got two. One just wouldn't cut it this morning."

"Late night?"

I raise an eyebrow, "You first."

She sighs dejectedly, "Yes, I had a long night. I didn't get much sleep, okay?"

"Wer-"

"And before you even make a snide comment, no, I wasn't having all-night sex with Sam," she lowers her gaze to the coffee, "It's a little more complicated than that."

I know Quinn well enough to know when she needs to time to process and this was one of those times.

"Okay," I say after a long pause, "if you want to talk about it, you know that I-"

"I know," she says quietly, "I will explain it another time...after I have decided what exactly needs to be explained."

"You sounded good last night," I change the subject, "The singing was very...passionate." I laugh at the word.

"What's funny?" She scrunches her face at me.

"I just—I don't know, Q, it's just funny to me that you get so enthusiastic when you're clearly trying to get under Berry's skin, but when I bring up, oh I don't know, your _boyfriend_, you just calmly dismiss the subject." I look down into my own coffee and laugh again.

When she doesn't respond, I'm scared that I've upset her and I look up to find her hazel eyes staring at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

"What?" I ask quietly.

She looks down and shakes her head gently, "Nothing...I think maybe you just know me better than I realized." She smiles as she lifts her cup to her lips and continues, "You're smarter than you look."

"Oh, you're just hilarious," I tease back.

"All right, Lopez, why didn't you sleep?" She arches an eyebrow at me.

"No way, two can play this game. I'm not telling either," I fold my arms across my chest and sit back in my chair arrogantly.

She rolls her eyes again and clears her throat, "Whatever. I know it has to do with you kissing Brittany while I was singing. I saw you do it."

"Damn it..." I breathe out. I knew I shouldn't have assumed I was being drunkenly discreet. Its an oxymoron.

She raises both eyebrows, "Well..." she motions with her hand for me to continue, "I'm waiting."

I sigh deeply, "All right, all right...but you have to give me at least a _hint_ as to why you're so depressed today, okay?"

"Deal," she agrees.

I suck in a long breath, "I ordered two tall shits because I didn't sleep well because I kissed Brittany."

She frowns at me, "C'mon, Santana, tell me something I didn't already assume by my own observations."

"Real people don't talk like that."

She rolls her eyes. "A nasty habit I picked up in college," she mimics my quip from a few days ago.

"All right, all right..." I sigh.

"You say that a lot now," she says.

"You roll your eyes a lot now."

She smiles at me warmly, "Well...aren't we just a pair of misfits?"

I give a small laugh and finally decide to start talking, "I can't stay at Britt's after that—which thanks for totally ratting me out about needing a place to stay," I narrow my eyes at her. She smiles and takes a drink of coffee.

"I mean, what the fuck am I doing?" I continue, "I'm so incredibly stupid when it comes to Brittany that I can't even manage to end an amazing night on a high note. I completely fucked whatever chance we had to just spend a friendly week together." I fold my hands together in my lap and squeeze tightly to try to calm myself down before I get too angry or upset.

"Restraint was never your strong suit...with your actions or your mouth," she went to take another drink but stopped when I smiled devilishly at her. "Stop," she coughed, "I didn't mean it like that and you know it."

I decide to shy away from the 'mouth' comment in the interest of time. Plus, Quinn is way to easy of a target. I sigh again, "Restraint isn't the issue..."

"Then what is?" she inquires, "Malibu Rum?"

I laugh, even though she's a jackass, "No. The issue is that I should have never tried to push the friendship thing with Britt in the first place."

Quinn raises her eyebrows questioningly.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, it would be great to be able to get back to a comfortable place with her like we both have with Finn and Puck, but...it's just not possible with her."

"Why?" Quinn asks with more force than I expected from her. I meet her eyes and see that she's really invested in my answer for some reason. I'm guessing it has to do with what went on the night before with Sam and why she was being so cryptic.

I let my head fall back to the side and stare out into the empty main street of Lima, "Because, Q, with some people it just cuts too deep to ever regain normalcy."

She follows my gaze outside and stares off, too. "Like it hurt too much," she whispers.

"No," I correct her, and turn to meet her eyes, "It felt too good." I pause a moment and then continue with more force, "Too good to be just a friendship. Too good to be anything less than raw, unadulterated passion. Too good to ever want anything but the entirety of that person."

Quinn breaks our eye contact and looks at her lap. Not only was what I said resonating with me, but it was striking a chord with her, too. When she looks up to meet my gaze again I can see that something is seriously troubling her. _Someone_ is seriously troubling her. Knowing Quinn as well as I do, though, I know better than to push right now. She needs time to maul everything over and mind fuck herself into oblivion before she will ever consider asking a friend for help.

Were kind of the same in that aspect. With the exception of lately, I never ask people to hear my problems or bare the weight of my former teenaged angst with me. This dynamic I've been building with Quinn in the last few days actually feels kind of nice. I like having a person I can rely on to listen to me the morning after I crash and burn. Plus, she's actually pretty smart so if she did offer any advice, I would actually consider it. My relationship with Quinn would definitely be a positive to moving back home because I know that no matter what happens with Britt, I will always have a friend.

The thought of being able to share a regular coffee routine with Quinn warms me a bit and I can feel some of the tension in my shoulders release. Living back in Lima with Quinn. I could handle that. In fact, I think I would rather enjoy it.

But Brittany lives here, too.

My shoulders tighten again at the mere thought of living near Brittany and not actually _being_ with her.

Quinn clears her throat as a sign that she's fully processed what I just said and smiles at me. "Real people don't talk like that," she kids.

And there it was. We would save this conversation for another day.

I smile back at her and say, "You know you can talk to me whenever you're ready."

"I know," she takes a drink of her coffee, "And can I just say that I can't believe how mature you're getting...I mean you didn't even dwell on that 'mouth' comment. That's growth, San."

It's my turn to roll my eyes, "Oh, shut up."

"So, how's that coffee?" she smiles knowingly.

"It's...okay," I digress.

* * *

On my way to Britt's house I start to mentally berate myself for stupidly allowing Quinn to talk me into following through with my plan to stay with B. Before we left Lima Bean she strung the bait of telling me a secret that tied into her night after the reunion. But she would only reveal it if I agreed to go stay with Brittany and try to get past what had happened last night and at least talk about it with Britt. I reluctantly agreed, knowing that she was right about needing to talk it out, and was then rewarded with her 'secret' of sorts.

It wasn't even that great of a fucking revelation. She told me that she thinks that she fell in love with someone a long time ago and it had just started becoming plainly obvious to her. She said she was going to go to Sam's to break up with him after we had our coffee.

Okay, so that was kind of a big secret. Still, I never even got a hint as to who the mystery man is. My bet was on Puck. I think that whole 'we have a child together' thing kind of made them lifers. Or maybe that's just my wishful thinking in hopes that he will ditch that bitch, Sugar. And, so help me, if she thinks she's in love with Finn, I will totally lose it. The only thing worse than Finn would be Berry.

Even though I had agreed to go to Brittany's, it took me roughly 6 hours of driving around in avoidance of her house before I finally pulled into the driveway. I drove by McKinley. I drove by every park in Lima—all three of them. I drove by my Abuela's house in hopes of seeing her through the window, to no avail. I drove by Quinn's house and noticed that her car wasn't there and she _still_ wasn't home from our coffee date. So out of pure curiosity, I drove by Sam's to see if her car was parked there. She wasn't. Then I drove by Finn's. No car. I have no idea where Puck and Sugar live so I decided to try and find it with pure luck. My best guess was something obnoxiously colored with a ridiculously clean pool in the backyard. Possibly a feather boa around the mailbox. No such luck.

I finally gave in when the sun started to set and headed toward B's house. From the driveway, where I was now parked, I could see a light on inside the kitchen. Shit. She's home.

I push out a dejected breath through my nose, grab my bag, and head toward her front door.

Before I even had a chance to knock, Brittany flung the door wide open. "You had me so worried!" she said quickly.

I look down, kind of embarrassed, "Yeah, sorry...time got away from me."

"It's okay," she says soothingly, "Come in," she stands back and motions toward the open entryway.

I step inside and take in the surroundings. Its kind of surreal feeling. Her parent's house is exactly the same as it was in high school. Same old furniture. Same decorations. Everything. Before I could stop myself, I started to blush when I looked at the living room couch—the site of _many_ late night sexual encounters between us after her parents had gone to bed.

"Britt..." I trail off questioningly, "did your parents take _anything_ with them when they moved?"

She laughed slightly, "Yeah, their clothes."

I scrunch my face in confusion.

"They bought all new stuff, San. Mom said 'we're retired and we want new stuff' and they left all of this for me."

I smiled at Brittany's impression of her mother's voice. Only she could make a deep voiced mimic look and sound so adorable. I sigh a little and allow myself to relax. Brittany is acting completely normal so I can, too.

"Are you hungry?" she asks after a moment.

"Starving, actually. I haven't eaten today."

"Why not?" She asks as she grabs my arm and leads me to the kitchen.

"Well, after I met with Quinn I was so full of coffee that I just wasn't hungry for a long while," I mumble as I watch her pull leftover enchiladas from the refrigerator and push them into the microwave.

"Oo, Lima Bean coffee? I'm jealous. It's so yummy," she says happily as she sets the timer.

"Brittany, that coffee is disgusting," I laugh.

"No, it's not!" she argues playfully.

"Seriously, B, it tastes like they brew it in a toilet."

She giggles.

"Anyway, time just got away from me, I guess."

"It sure did. I almost had to call Quinn to see where you were. I called you like seven times," she said quickly as she pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator, too.

"You did?" I asked quizzically. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to dispute her claim, but sure enough, there were actually eight missed calls from her and three text messages.

"Sorry, B," I said quietly still looking at my phone, "I had it on silent and I didn't even realize."

I clicked into the text messages and saw one was from Quinn. I opened it.

_**Quit driving around like a creep. Just go to her house already. **_

My mouth dropped open and I cough laughed. I drove by so many places and never saw her car. She must have strategically parked it so nobody would know where she was. _Now_ who's the creep?

"What's funny?" Brittany asked leaning over the island counter where I was seated.

I looked up and smiled warmly at her, "Quinn sent me a funny text message."

"What did it say?" she smiled cutely at me.

My breath hitched. I didn't want to tell her I was scared of coming over but I wondered if she knew where Quinn might be.

"I was driving around earlier and apparently she saw me but I didn't see her. She's being very cryptic about this whole 'I'm in love with someone' thing."

"What?" Britt's face lit up like a kid getting a present. Not in a way it would if this was a new piece of information to her.

"Yeah..." I said slowly, "but not with Sam."

"I know," she says matter-of-factly as she skipped over to the beeping microwave. "She actually _told _you she's in love?"

"I shouldn't have said anything so don't let on that you know," I say slowly, "and what do you mean 'I know'? How or what do you know?" I raise an eyebrow at her when she looks up at me.

She places a plate of enchiladas in front of me and says, "Eat, before they get cold."

"Britt, tell me what you know about Quinn and this mystery dude."

"Quinn will tell you when she's ready," She sits on a bar stool across from me.

"I won't eat 'til you spill," I fold my arms over my chest and smirk arrogantly at her.

"Aw, San," she pouts, "you know I don't like to tell people's secrets." She actually sticks out her bottom lip for emphasis.

I laugh, "Fine, fine. You don't have to tell me," I say, "but only because I'm starving."

After I finished eating we watched Hairspray and sang along to all the songs. I had Brittany cracking up so hard during my rendition of _Good Morning, Baltimore_ that she had tears in her eyes. Then we decided to play a game of Sequence for old times sake. It was our favorite game to play because it was the only one where she beat me every time. I'm not shitting. Every. Single. Time. And we've played it a_ lot_. I like to play because it's a constant challenge of 'maybe this will be the time I win'. She likes to play because, duh, she wins every time.

After Britt got her second sequence and won the game, we decided it was late and time for bed. Britt helped me take my bag upstairs and showed me to the guest room—which was her parents' old one. While we were brushing our teeth I asked her why she didn't move into their bedroom since it was bigger. She said she liked the familiarity of her old room. A green bottle in the shower caught the corner of my eye as I was about to turn off the light. Green Apples. I smiled softly, wished her good night, and got into bed in the spare room.

Now I don't know how long I've been laying here wide awake. Maybe its the weirdness of being in Brittany's parents' room? Maybe its because I've never been this close to her and not been sleeping in the same bed? Or maybe it was because I'm still upset that we haven't talked about the fact that I made a drunken ass of myself trying to kiss her last night. It's not a question. That's the reason.

God damn it.

I get up and quietly sneak into the hallway and up to Britt's door. I contemplate knocking but decide it would be better to just wake her up with a whisper rather than a loud noise.

I gently open the door and peek inside. It's completely dark except for the street light streaming in through the window.

I step in as quietly as I can and position myself next to her bed. I lean down and whisper, "B?"

She moans and stirs slightly.

"Brittany?" I try again.

She opens her eyes slowly and questions, "San?"

"Yeah, its me."

"Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," I start, "well, no, not technically. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Its been bugging me all day and I—I'm just sorry, okay?"

"Sorry for what?" she rubs her eyes and props herself so shes completely facing me. I'm still leaning down and our faces are just a few inches apart.

"For, um, kissing you...last night," I whisper.

She reaches her hand up and cups the side of my face. My skin warms at the contact and I instinctively lean my face into it and gently close my eyes.

"It's okay, I like it when you kiss me. I always have," she says confidently.

I open my eyes and get lost in the blue of hers. Even in the darkness they are predominant. I don't know what to say. I can feel myself being drawn to her. My body is already alert with just the slightest touch of her hand. My lower stomach is tightened and every inch of me is begging to be kissed, touched, and caressed by Brittany. I lick my lips and let my mind flicker with the thought of touching her. Being inside her. Bringing her to an orgasm. I pinch my legs together at the growing sensation I feel between them.

My thoughts are all twisted. My mind says slow down, but my body wants to speed up.

As if she knows what's going through my mind, Brittany gently pulls my head forward and lightly brushes her lips against mine. Its pretty clear that she wants to proceed.

I let out a deep, shaky breath.

"Come here," she commands huskily and every ounce of resistance I had left in my body immediately disperses. Oh, fuck it. What harm will one mistake do?

I greedily lunge forward and catch her lips with mine again. She immediately fights back against my kiss with her tongue dipping in and out of my mouth rhythmically.

I rip back the covers and climb on top of her, straddling her, without breaking the deep kiss. I hear a moan in the back of her throat which only encourages me to go faster. Without a second thought, I sit up and pull my t-shirt over my head in one motion. Brittany sits up with me and I help pull hers off, too. Neither of us were wearing bras or pants, so we're already down to our underware.

With some crazy burst of energy, Brittany holds me around my waist and flips me to my back, putting herself on top. She starts to place soft, warm kisses down the side of my neck. I let out a soft noise. She knows how much kissing my neck drives me wild. She knows everything that I like. Sex with Brittany has always been amazing.

I tangle my fingers in her hair and start to gently push my hips into her. She ignores my thrust and gently slides to the side of me. Her lips find mine again and I melt into their warmth. I'm moving my kisses so fast that our mouths are making popping noises. My breathing is so erratic and heavy that I can't hear anything else. Just when I think I might be able to calm myself and slow this all down, I feel Britt's hand make it's way gingerly down the middle of my chest, over my stomach, and into my underware.

I guess she doesn't ask for permission anymore. Nor does she need it. She easily gets a finger inside and starts to gently massage my clit. Any thought of slowing down is now completely gone. I push my head back into the pillow and arch my body as her strokes pick up speed and accuracy. I moan softly, then immediately remember that we're alone in this house. The next moan comes out at a higher volume and with more ferocity.

Brittany moves her kissing down my neck as she slides her finger down further and pushes it inside of me.

"Oh god," I pant. Her strokes quicken at my reaction and she puts another finger in. I can't believe how close I am already.

She moves her kisses even lower by propping herself on one arm. She's kissing my shoulders. My collarbone. My breasts. My—oh god. Brittany's teeth on my tender skin cause me to push against her still moving fingers even harder.

She knows I'm close and brings her face back up to mine. She cuts off my moaning with hard kiss. I feel my stomach rush and explode through my whole body with a final thrust of her fingers.

My body collapses out of its arched position into the bed. I concentrate for a few seconds on regulating my breathing.

Brittany starts to put soft kisses all over my face.

I smile and turn my face so she will look at me.

She stares lovingly at me and slowly runs lazy fingers up and down the length of my body. I only have one thought on my mind right now. Where to start with her? There are so many places on Brittany's body that I love to explore. I might be older now, but a part of me is still a horny 17-year-old. Must. Touch. Everything.

She knows exactly what I'm contemplating and breathes out a laugh.

"What?" I whisper innocently.

"You can never decide what you wanna do first," she smiles again.

I smile back and let out a relaxed breath, "I've missed you, B."

Her eyes meet mine, "I love you, San."

_**Six and a Half Years Earlier**_

_ I gripped the sides of Brittany's legs and adamantly moved my tongue against her. Her moaning was louder than usual since we were home alone. She had one hand tangled in my hair and the other was gripping the side of the bed. She thrust her hips upward and panted, "Oh my god, San." Her orgasm released and her whole body shook with ecstasy as she came down from the high. _

_ I unhooked my arms and slowly started to make my way back up her body, leaving a trail of kisses as I went. Once I reached her shoulder I laid my head down and snuggled in close with a sigh. _

_ She wrapped one arm around my body and pulled the comforter over top of us with the other. _

_ "Thanks," I said tiredly, "I was getting cold." We were both completely naked. _

_ "I was, too, but I didn't want to suffocate you while you were down there," she said plainly. _

_ I laughed, "I wouldn't suffocate, Britt," I looked up and kissed her softly on the cheek. "But I wouldn't want the blanket on because then I wouldn't be able to see you." _

_ Her face reddened and she replied, "I like to see you, too." _

_ We had been having regular sex for almost five months. I was fake dating a few guys at school every once in awhile to keep up appearances, but other than that, I spent nearly every waking moment with Brittany. She was the only person who didn't drive me bat shit crazy from over exposure. _

_ "We can sleep naked tonight, you know," I said seductively. _

_ She giggled, "When will your parents be back from your aunt's house?" _

_ "Not until Sunday around supper time, probably." _

_ "So we can be naked the whole weekend," she teased. _

_ "Challenge accepted," I sighed and settled back down into my nook between her shoulder and neck. "You know," I continued, "we can try some things this weekend that we've never tried before."_

_ "Like what?" she asked quickly with a scared undertone to her voice. _

_ I lifted my head and looked her in the eyes, "Relax, Britt, I don't mean anything dangerous or overly perverted," I laughed. "I mean like...morning sex. Or afternoon sex. Or couch sex. Or showering together." _

_ "Can we take a bath together!?" She excitedly jumped a little. _

_ "Yes," I laughed, "Yes, B, we can take a bath together." I laid back down. "We can do stuff that doesn't have to do with sex, too." I yawned and felt sleepiness take over my body. "Like cuddle during a movie. Hold hands. Hell, I can even kiss you while I watch you cook me supper." _

_ "I like when you watch me cook," she said quietly. I could tell that she was just moments from sleep, too. _

_ "I know you do." _

_ I lifted my head one last time to give her a good night kiss. I leaned in and carefully pressed my lips into hers. I felt warm all over. But it wasn't a turned-on kind of a warm. It was a soothing and comfortable warm. The kind someone feels when they're really, really happy. _

_ I pulled back from the kiss and looked at her._

_ "I love you, Brittany." I had felt it for a long time, but this was the first time I had said it out loud._

_ She smiled and put her hand at the side of my face. _

_ "I love you, too, Santana." _


	5. I'd Rather See You Bare Your Soul

**A/N: Okay, so Glee these last 2 weeks kind of threw me a bit. I already had this chapter over half-done when "Diva" aired 2 weeks ago, and almost completely finished when "I Do" aired last week. I got the idea for this story during the end of Season 3, so just pretend that you know nothing about season 4. Also, something kind of ironic happened in the episode "Diva" with Santana and Coach Sylvester that correlates to what I already had written. I think it's a sign :). And just a reminder that I take some liberties with this story that don't necessarily tie directly into the show—but I try to keep it close (with the exception of season 4). **

**I had a question in the comments about seeing any Faberry action, and since this story is from Santana's POV, I'm not going to get a lot of Quinn/Rachel worked in. However, I have been tossing around the idea of writing a sister fic to this one from the POV of Quinn during the reunion and such. But I haven't fully decided yet. **

**The title of this chapter is from the song _Me Against the Music._**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

_**Chapter 5: I'd Rather See You Bare Your Soul** _

I seriously consider asking the barista to just tap a keg for me. Would it be tacky to order three coffees when I always insist on adding 'shit flavored' to the description?

I see Quinn walk in right on schedule, as always. She gives me a playful grin and sits down at a table to save it for us as the morning rush picks up pace. I'm nice and order a coffee for her once I reach the front of the line. I know how she takes it anyway.

After weaving myself through the crowd of people and back to the table she got for us, I finally say good morning.

"It _must_ be a good morning for you to be so generous," she smiles at the coffee and continues after taking a sip, "Mm, perfect. Thank you."

"It's not a good morning," I dive right in. What's the point of trying to talk circles around it? She'll drag it out of me eventually, anyway. I've spent way too much time in the last four years trying to be jaded and guarded about every little thing. I trust Quinn so I may as well bare my soul to her.

She cocks an eyebrow, "Oh really? Why's that?"

I take a drink and try to decide the best possible approach to the topic of 'I fucked Brittany last night.' I scrunch my face in concentration.

She laughs, "C'mon, San, what is it? It can't be that bad. It's not like you and Brittany..." She trails off and looks me in the eyes. Her eyes bug slightly, "You didn't...Oh, god, how bad was it?" She presses a hand to her forehead.

I cough into the drink I was about to take, "What? Bad!?" I frown at her. It was anything, but bad. Stupid. Careless. Maybe even a little drawn out considering we did it twice. But never bad.

"The fight," she says, "How bad did you fight with her? You didn't say anything stupid that you'll regret, did you?"

I laugh, "Quinn, we didn't fight."

"Oh, good," she sighs, relieved.

"We had sex."

"What."

"Twice."

She lifts both her hands in the air and stares at me blankly for a moment. Then, she looks at both her hands as if she's not sure what to do with them and finally rests them both on the sides of her face. She's in total shock. Her eyes are still fixed on me and she opens her mouth as if she's going to say something, but all that comes out is a noise.

"Say something," I demand.

"Santana-"

"You don't think I know its bad? I'm all freaked out today. Hell, I got up and left to come here before she was even awake. I don't know what the hell to do. I wasn't thinking. I didn't think. I just acted."

"Who started it?" Her face relaxes a bit and she settles her hands back in her lap.

"She did, actually," I slump in my seat, "but I still should have stopped it."

"Not necessarily," she says coolly.

I raise both eyebrows in surprise, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Maybe this is the push you need to get your shit figured out."

"Hey," I say defensively, "I am figuring it out. Kind of."

She half-smiles at me with arrogance.

"Don't do that," I squint my eyes and shake my head, "Don't do that whole cocky thing. You have shit to figure out, too, Miss I-Just-Realized-I'm-In-Love-But-Won't-Tell-Santana-Who-It-Is-Because-I'm-A-Douchebag."

"Wow," she says flatly, "Is that what we're doing now? Maturity flies out the window when our defenses go up?"

"Ya damn right," I point a finger at her and straighten in my chair.

"Santana," she chastises, "don't get defensive. Its okay to have baggage that needs sorting out."

"Why is it okay that Brittany is the one who started it?"

"What?" she asks innocently, as if she can side-step the question.

"Don't play dumb, Quinn. Its unbecoming on you," I glare, "when I said I had sex with Brittany you all but had a minor stroke. But once I said Britt started it, you changed your tune mighty fast. What gives?" I cross my arms over my chest for good measure.

She sighs and gently strums her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. "Okay, you're going to take this the wrong way, but I trust Brittany's judgment more than yours."

I widen my eyes and dryly reply, "Wow. How could anyone ever take that the wrong way?"

"Listen," she continues, "Brittany is just more in control and in touch with her emotions than you are. You can't even deny that fact. You're the first one to admit that you get a little..."

"Emotional?" I try to finish for her.

"Insane."

I frown and tilt my head slightly to the right. Its my 'I'm about to lunge at you' stance, but given the recent revelation of my insanity, I take a deep breath and motion with a nod of my head for her to continue.

"San, don't get me wrong, I love you. I love Brittany, too. And I absolutely adore the idea of the two of you working things out, but let's face it, that's all on you and not her."

"What do you mean?" I ask quietly.

She gives me a worried look like she's scared of hurting my feelings by continuing.

I soften my demeanor and lean forward a bit, "Please," I say quietly, "tell me what you mean."

She leans forward, too, and quietly responds, "Brittany is already there. She's already in a place where she can love you. Has loved you. Loves you." Her eyes focus on mine. "It's you that needs to decide if you're ready to give yourself back to her like before. That's why I said its okay if Brittany started it—because she understands the consequences of being with someone who is a flight risk. But, if she was seduced and then left behind, I would be on damage control for weeks after you left."

I look down at the coffee in front of me and whisper, almost like I'm ashamed, "She said 'I love you' to me last night."

"Did you say it back?"

I shake my head and I hear her blow out a hard breath of disapproval.

"Why not?" she says with a little more force. "I mean, clearly, you do love her. Why try to deny yourself happiness?"

"What happens when I leave, Quinn?" My head snaps back up and I find her hazel eyes shooting darts through my skull. "Do I say, 'Yes, Brittany, I love you, too. I love you more than I love myself. I feel more deeply for you than I have for anyone else. Ever.' and then just bail on her a few days later? Or do I swallow my words and just enjoy our time together and leave us both with happy memories?" I lean back in my seat and drop my hands in my lap, resignedly. I can feel a burn behind my eyes, but I don't want to cry so I turn my focus out the window into the main street.

Quinn stares at me for a moment and then continues quietly, "But put yourself in Brittany's position in that situation. The one who put her heart out there. The one who was denied the return affection. The one who was left behind."

I can hear the overwhelming hurt in her voice. Once again, we're not just talking about Brittany and me anymore. This mystery person sure is taking a toll on Quinn. I'm confused by all of her pent up and guarded emotion. If she just told me who it is, I could comfort her. Or at least track them down and scare them into treating her better.

I reach across the table and put my hand gently on top of hers, "Quinn..." I comfort.

"Why are you still here Santana?" she snaps, but lets my hand stay.

"I-"

"No. Why?" She repeats with more force. "Why are you still in Lima? The reunion is over. You saw everybody you wanted to see. There has to be either something you're avoiding in New York or something keeping you here. There are no in-betweens, damn it. What is it?"

She has tears in her eyes. Again, I know what she's saying has more meaning behind it than just my situation, but it correlates with me too. What _am_ I still doing here? If I left for New York tonight, would I be excited to get back there?

No. I wouldn't. I would dread it. My heart and soul was invested in New York five years ago, but now...its just not there.

"I'm not happy there," I give her hand a light squeeze, "but I feel like a failure if I give up and just leave."

She looks up at me again, "How is being in a place where you're happy grounds for failure? Jesus, Santana, at least you tried. You went to New York. You tried your dream. Its okay that you realized it wasn't what you wanted. Maybe your real dream has been right in front of you the whole time. The only failures are the people who don't even try in the first place. You moving back here and being with people who love and care about you will never be considered failing. Never."

"You don't think I'm compromising myself by-"

"It's not a compromise when you're happy," she cuts me off. "You've gone out and experienced life outside of Lima. Congratulations. Now, maybe the rest of the world isn't as great as you hoped. Maybe home is where you're happy."

My chest tightens and I feel completely naked with Quinn right now. Its like she can actually _see_ what I'm thinking.

I pull my hand back, slowly. I uncomfortably squirm at how exposed and vulnerable I feel. My shoulders are tensed up and I'm slowly started to curl forward into a protective stance. I can't do this right now.

After a long pause, Quinn collects herself and she laughs, "I thought you were hitting on me there." She picks up her coffee and motions with the cup at my hand.

Praise lesbian jesus, we're changing the subject. I don't know how much more I could take before I started to cry in public—which is right up there with blow jobs on my 'freak out' scale. I will always appreciate Quinn's understanding of exactly how far she can push me before its too far.

"Dream on, Fabray," I joke back, letting some of the tension fall out of my shoulders and relaxing into my seat.

She shrugs her shoulders, "Meh, you're not what I look for in a girl anyway."

I cock an eyebrow, "Girl, huh? You mean to tell me that Sister Christian Quinn Fabray diddled with the ladies back in college?"

She laughs and looks as though she might continue with the joke, but then decides against it. She shrugs her shoulders again.

I laugh, too. "You know..." I say with more seriousness, "All joking aside, whoever has you this torn up better be worth it. I know you don't want to talk to me about it yet, which is fine—even though Brittany obviously knows and that's kind of unfair," I smile to let her know I'm joking, "Just know that I'm here when you're ready."

She smiles back at me warmly, "Thanks." She sighs loudly, "Its way too early for these intense conversations."

"You said it," I say as I stretch my arms above my head.

"Anything else you'd like to get off your chest while we're at it? Now or never."

I know she meant it in a joking fashion, but what the hell, right? "Figgins and Coach Sylvester offered me the assistant coaching job."

"San!" Quinn's whole face lights up, "That's awesome! Wait, can you work in the school without a teaching endorsement?"

"As a cheerleading coach, yeah," I nod my head as I talk.

"Is that enough money, though?" she questions.

"Surprisingly, after I take over the head coaching position, its about the same as I'm making now. But with less expenses in a small town, I would be just fine."

"You could just wait around for Pillsbury, or whatever her name is now, to finally retire or decide start teaching college courses," she smiles at me mischievously because she's loving every second of this conversation now. "You know, schools love to promote from within. And..." she lowers her head, "Brittany is helping with the dance routines in Glee club. Maybe you two could work together?"

So _that's_ why she was going to see Mr. Schuester when I ran into her at the school the other day. It makes sense now.

"No promises, Quinn," I say with a stern face, "I just wanted to let you know what came of my little meeting at the school."

"Okay," she can't help but smile, "No promises...I heard you."

"So let's talk about this girl you slept with. Should I be worried that you said you love me earlier?" I focus my eyes on her in fake-seriousness.

She instantly blushes, "We're not talking about that."

"Oh come on," I push, "You were in college and..."

"I never said I was in college. _You_ said it. It was high school, actually. Well...the first time, anyway."

My jaw drops slightly. Holy shit, I really don't think we're joking around anymore. Who the fuck did Quinn fuck in high school?

I thought it, so I might as well say it, "Who the fuck did you fuck in high school?"

The red on her cheeks deepens and she shushes me, "Santana! Keep your voice down."

"Is this the big mystery person?" My jaw drops further, "Jesus Christ, Quinn, you've got it bad for a _girl_, and you didn't deem it appropriate to tell _ME_!?" I know I'm talking too loud, but I don't care.

She covers her face with both hands, "I can't even—you're too much right now." She pulls her hands away slightly, "You just proved that you're not ready for this conversation so it's being saved for another time."

"Bullshit, it's being sav-"

Her hand juts across the table, quickly covering my mouth. "Tell you what," she whispers, "you go talk to Brittany and sort out some of the shit you have going on with her, and then you and I will have this conversation. But only after you've talked _seriously_ with Britt. And don't come back and lie to me about talking to her because I will know if you're lying." She releases her hand from my mouth.

"Jokes on you. I was going to talk to Brittany anyway. So now you're going to have to tell me who's skirt you've been snaking your hands up for no gain." I smile triumphantly.

* * *

"Who's in the shower?" I ask dumbly when I hear the water turn off.

Brittany stares at me with an unreadable expression. Is she confused by the question? Why is somebody showering at her house? I had just gotten here about a minute or so ago. We hadn't even really started talking. After I left Quinn at Lima Bean I came straight back here. I walked in the door all smiles and happy. I was ready to talk to Brittany about us. To be open. To be honest.

"Britt," I scan her body and realize that she's in a bathrobe. She was just in the shower, too. "Who the fuck is in the shower?" I repeat.

She opens her mouth to say something but is cut short by the bathroom door swinging open and Puck walking out in a towel.

He startles and jumps a bit, "Oh! Hey, Santana. Sorry, I didn't know you were here." He quickly walks into Brittany's room and shuts the door behind him.

My eyes trail back to Brittany's and we are at a stand-still. Neither of us moves. Neither of us blinks. I'm not entirely sure either of us is breathing.

"Puck," she finally answers quietly.

"Well, no shit," I snap.

"San-" she reaches forward and touches my arm, but I jerk back and hold up a warning hand.

"Don't."

"You don't-"

"I wasn't gone that long. I-I...I don't understand," my voice is shaky. I drop my eyes to the floor knowing that I'm ready to cry. I take a step backward to put more space between us. How is this possible? I was only gone a few hours.

"You think I had sex with him?" she asks, dumbfounded.

"What?" I keep my focus on my feet.

"You think I had sex with him. I can tell."

Why can everybody in Lima, Ohio read me like a fucking picture book? Am I that transparent?

"Did you?"

She doesn't say anything. Her silence makes me think I'm right. Brittany had turned to sex with boys in the past whenever she was at odds with me. I don't know exactly what it did for her. A release from the pressure of having actual feelings, maybe?

So why today? Why only a few hours after I left? Because I didn't leave a note? Because I left before she woke up? Did she think I had actually bailed and left town? All my fucking stuff is still here. And why Puck? Of all the people to sleep with. Why. Him.

I still don't look up at her. The tears in my eyes will free fall with my next blink. This is happening so fast. I walked in here less than 5 minutes ago with such dignity and hope. I can't handle this uncomfortable silence anymore. I try to tell her that I'm going to leave. Go for a walk. Or a drive. Anything. I'm just leaving. But when I open my mouth all that comes out is a coughed sob. My eyes stay down, and the tears finally fall.

She still isn't talking. Just standing a few feet away. Staring at me. I turn to leave.

"Why does it matter?" she asks with force in her voice. I turn back.

"Huh?" I choke out and rub my hand across my face.

"So what if I did sleep with him. Why does that matter to you?"

"Excuse me?" I lift my head quickly and focus my eyes on her. There was more bite in my tone than I had expected.

She takes a step closer to me. "Why, Santana, does it matter if I have sex with someone else?"

Our eyes are locked. Hers are clouded with anger and frustration. This might be the angriest I've ever seen her. A normal person would recognize this and back down, realizing that Brittany is obviously hurting. I'm not a normal person.

"Because it's gross, Brittany!" I snap. "It completely disgusts me that you had me last night and him this morning. It makes you a slut. Okay?"

"And you don't think," her voice cracks, "that I already felt that way this morning? Waking up alone?" She pushes out a breath that's followed by tears. Her eyes drop to the floor.

I don't drop my eyes this time. I just stare at her. I'm so confused. I can't even string a tangible thought together.

"I felt used," she says finally. "I felt cheap. So what is it? You can't stand the idea of waking up next to each other, anymore?"

I should have left a note.

She buries her face in her hands.

I step forward and touch her shoulder. She jerks herself away me violently. She's never recoiled from me before. That's usually my move.

"No," she looks up and says with force, "You don't get to play this game. You don't get to sleep with me and then treat me badly because you're scared."

"Britt..." I trail off.

Her blue eyes are so dark with anger than I can't help but to look away from them.

"Why are you so scared anyway? Everybody knows you're gay now. Everybody knows that we have been together," she waits for me to respond and then continues listing my former excuses for my bad behavior, "We're not in high school. We're not too young..."

Again, she waits for me to respond or look up or something. I fully realize that anything would be better than cowering like I am, but I feel paralyzed. I'm still so lost. I realize I hurt her. I want to say I love you. I want to hold her. But why is Puck here? Did she really sleep with him to spite me?

"Maybe..." she hisses, "maybe you're scared because you're out of excuses for acting like a child. And maybe it's time to grow up."

I spin myself around quickly and race to the door. Before I can even comprehend what I am doing, I'm already in my car and pulling out of the driveway.

Maybe she's right.

_Six Years Earlier_

_ "Please don't leave me," I begged her. My breath was suddenly ragged and my chest had started to heave with uncontrolled sobs._

_ She stopped walking at the sound of my crying and turned slowly to look at me. We were alone in the choir room. It was late and Brittany had stayed after with me to work on a song. _

_ Her face registered in concern. I couldn't blame her. I didn't even recognize my own voice with that plea. I had never felt so out-of-control of my own body. So vulnerable. I couldn't see my own face, but I knew it was red hot, and I had make-up smeared under my eyes from harshly trying to wipe away tears. _

_ She walked back toward me slowly, "But San, you said-"_

_ "I know!" I choked out. "I know what I said, B. I didn't mean it." She stepped within arms reach of me and I didn't hesitate to grab her and pull her into me. "I didn't mean it," I repeated as I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist and buried my face into her neck. She didn't fight it, and circled her long arms around my body and pulled me in tight._

_ She had asked me to stop sleeping with Puck. To stop kissing anybody but her. She wanted us to be a couple and tell people. I told her no. I hadn't taken into consideration how hard it had probably been for her to ask me that. I didn't think about her feelings before saying no. I understand Brittany well enough to know that it probably had taken weeks for her to work up the courage to be so bold with me. I had shot her down without a second thought. _

_ I watched the light fall out of her eyes. I saw her body slump. I could tell before she even responded what was about to happen and I was powerless to stop it. My mind went numb at the realization that I had just pushed her too far. She had told me yesterday that Artie had asked her on a date. I just scoffed at her. Now she was telling me that she's going to go out with him if I can't be with her and only her. _

_ She waited for my reply and when I didn't say anything, she turned to leave. That's when my emotions boiled over and I cried out for her to not leave me. _

_ "Shh...it's okay, San," she cooed into my ear. "It'll all be okay. We can actually be together and it'll be okay." _

_ I sucked in a deep breath and got my crying under control. I'm not ready for people to know. I'm not ready to be in an exclusive relationship with Brittany. I'm not ready for everybody to know about me. _

_ But I'm also not ready to lose her. _

_ I pulled my face back from her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. Once she saw my face, she knew that I wasn't ready to give into her. Her arms dropped from my sides. _

_ "You can't eat your cake!" she huffed. _

_ "What?" I frowned at her. _

_ "The saying. You can't have cake," she mumbled with frustration. _

_ I wiped the last of my tears from my cheeks, "You mean you can't 'have your cake and eat it, too.'" _

_ "Yeah," she said quietly as she backed away from me, "That." _

_ I sighed heavily, "Brittany, I don't want to lose you. Can't you see that? It's killing me to even think about it." _

_ She kept walking backwards toward the door and replied, "And can't you see that you're hurting me? Or do I not matter as much?" _

_ She stopped and looked up, meeting my eyes. _

_ The inside of my head was screaming. 'I love you, damn it, isn't that enough!? I can't stand the thought of someone else touching you. I can't handle you not being near me every possible moment. I want to be with you, Brittany, but I'm not ready. Please, just give me time and I will be only yours. Please. Please...'_

_ But on the outside I was silent. _

_ "I'm going on a date with Artie," she said with finality. "And when I date someone, I date _only_ them." _

_ She turned and walked out of the choir room._

_ It was our first break up. _


	6. Even Through The Darkest Phase

**A/N: I apologize in advance for the lack of Brittany/Santana interaction in this chapter but I feel it was necessary to push the story forward. **

**The title of this chapter is from the song _Constant Craving._**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

_Chapter 6: Even Through The Darkest Phase...Someone Marches Brave _

My first and only thought this morning is that I need a Lima Bean coffee. No other thoughts are allowed to be in my brain right now. After I get my delicious shit fix, I will allow myself to think. Until then, I'm numb.

I dry swallow and try to regain some of the moisture in my mouth. I must have slept with it open. Great. I sincerely hope nobody saw me sleeping against the driver's side window of my car with my mouth all agape. Real sexy, Santana.

I'm parked in my parents' driveway, so it won't take long to get me to Lima Bean. I start the car. Quinn told me last night that she can't meet this morning for coffee. Stupid bitch.

I told her that Britt and I fought and I needed to talk. 'I'm so sorry, San, but I really can't right now.'

I said I didn't have anywhere to go. 'Santana, I really wish I could help, but I'm completely held up at the moment.'

I had text her at 2 am that I'm sleeping in my fucking car after having cried for 12 hours straight. 'I'll see you tomorrow, dear. I will make it better then.'

For coffee? I inquired. 'Can't. Tomorrow night, maybe...actually, it might be two days.'

Fuck. Off. Quinn. Fabray.

So here I am, going for Ohio's best coffee all by my lonesome.

When I pull into the parking lot, I see Artie wheeling himself through the held-open door. Maybe I could talk to him? He knows mine and Brittany's back story. Too much of it, actually.

I immediately recall the day Brittany told me she took Artie's virginity. I cringe.

Nope. No fucking way I'm talking to him. Stupid prick.

I hate everybody.

I pull down the sun visor and give myself a once over, before getting out of the car and casually striding into the coffee house. I keep my dark sunglasses on while I'm inside because my eyes are still puffy and red.

The line is long today. Of, fucking, course it is. And I'm right behind Artie in line. Maybe if I don't move or speak, he won't see me.

"Santana?"

I look down in front of me and see Artie smiling back. Shit.

"Oh, hey, Artie. Didn't see you there," I reply dully. I can't even fake happy today.

"You didn't recognize a guy a in a wheelchair?"

"Nope, my bad." I look to the right and pretend to be distracted by the people crowding up the place. There's hardly anywhere to sit. I don't want to be confined to my car anymore. God damn it.

"San?" Artie questions with concern. "Is everything okay?"

No thinking before the coffee, Artie. I'll send you the fucking memo next time.

I sigh deeply. Stupidly observant hometown friends. They just know everything in the world, don't they? He won't let this go if he thinks I'm hurting, so I might as well cave.

"Not really..." I say quietly. "Can we wait until I get my coffee to talk about it, though?"

"Of course," he replies. He spins his chair back around to face forward in line. We stand the rest of the wait in silence and I can't help but admire and appreciate his patience with me. Quinn's not that patient. Quinn's just a douchebag today. Nobody will convince me otherwise.

After we order, we settle into a low, corner table so Artie can wheel up to it.

"Do you always order two?" he laughs.

I fain a smile in return, "I have been the last few days. I really don't get my recent addiction to this shit...do they lace it with crack?"

He laughs again and smiles at me warmly. He's so patient. I bet I wouldn't even have to say a word this whole morning and he would just sit here with me. Artie's always been a great friend like that. I can almost see myself someday forgiving him for dating Brittany and stealing her out from under me...even if he had no idea that's what he was doing in the first place.

"So..." he says slowly.

"Take a wild guess," I challenge him.

"Well, it's either Brittany or...Brittany."

What a clever little man. I smile at him for the first time. I actually rather enjoy his wit.

"You're so smart. Did you go to college or something?" I joke.

He laughs, "Please, Santana, somebody wouldn't even have to graduate pre-school to understand the 'Brittana' dynamic."

I laugh-spit the drink I had just taken at the mention of my and Brittany's Hollywood mash-up.

Before I can help myself I smile at him warmly. I've missed Artie just like I've missed Quinn. I hate that being home has made me such a fucking sap.

"So..." he urges me when I don't reply.

"It's complicated," I say as I lower my eyes.

"Isn't it always?" he quips back at me.

I sigh with exaggeration, "Why does everybody here insist on talking about feelings?"

"Who else have you been talking to?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Fucking Quinn," I deadpan.

He laughs through his nose. "She doesn't exactly set the best example for 'talking about feelings'."

"No kidding," I reply, "She won't even tell me who's she's been bumping uglies with this week."

Artie snorts, "What?..." He trails off and then continues enthusiastically, "They actually hooked up again!?"

"Seriously," I say in a low voice, "you know who it is, too?"

He nods.

"Am I the only oblivious person in Lima?" I ask louder. "Honestly," I continue even louder, "does fucking Berry know, too!?"

"I would imagine she does," he says with a smirk.

I'm confused by that answer but I decide to ignore it. "Did you know that Quinn had sex with a girl?" I coax, trying to pull more information out of him.

The conversation has made me temporarily forget about my incessant crying last night, and before I realize what I'm doing, I pull my sunglasses off my face and place them next to my coffee on the table.

"Oh my god, Santana," Artie basically gasps, "your eyes are so red!"

"Yeah," I say quickly and wave a dismissive hand at him. I'm hoping he will just let this drop and continue with our Quinn conversation before I get too emotional again.

He looks at me with a concerned frown. I really wish people would stop caring about me so much. It makes it really hard to hate them.

"You know," he starts after a silent moment between us, "back in high school when I was dating Brittany..."

I cock an eyebrow at him. I know he trailed off after her name in order to get my approval before continuing. We lock eyes and I whisper, "Go on."

"When we dated all she talked about was you," he smiles at me in a pathetic way. In a way where I can tell this is something he never wanted to admit. That the girl who took his virginity loved somebody else the whole time.

I don't say anything.

"I used to get so mad at you," he laughs, "You wouldn't even do anything more than walk through the choir room door and Brittany's eyes would light up, and my heart would break."

He looks down at his lap and sighs. I feel like I should apologize for some weird reason. I couldn't help that Brittany loved me, but I never wanted anybody to get hurt in the process. A lot of people did get hurt though. Artie. Puck. Sam. Even Quinn when she realized we had been lying to her and hiding things for so long. Worst of all, it hurt Brittany...and me.

"Do you remember why Brittany and I broke up?" he asks.

"You called her stupid," I say flatly and reach for my coffee. I internally cringe at the memory and I hope he does, too. Artie might be an upstanding guy, but that was definitely a dickhead move.

"Yeah..." he trails off quietly, "but it had kind of started before that. Something else fueled the fire, that was just the tipping point."

"What happened?"

"I found all those love letters she wrote to you in her bookbag."

"Love letters?" I push. Britt and I had written each other about a bazillion notes in high school. We would pass them during class. Shove them in lockers between classes we didn't have together. Leave them in each others cars, books, gym bags, etc. Brittany always asked for hers back when I was done reading them. I never understood why until one day when I asked, and she simply said that she wanted to keep all of them forever. I gushed at her cuteness and even made her a 'note holder' out of an old shoe box. I covered it with glitter, stickers, and pictures of us. I know, I know...I'm adorable.

But love letters? I don't remember ever getting a full-on love letter. The most Brittany ever wrote to me was maybe five sentences.

"She never showed them to you?" he frowns.

"Obviously not," I say with irritability.

"Oh, well, she had written you a bunch of love letters while you two weren't talking and she was dating me. She was really torn up about it, you know...the fact that you two weren't talking."

I lower my head. I was the reason we weren't talking. It was too hard for me, and I'm selfish.

"Anyway," he continues, "I found the letters and read them while she was working on a dance routine one day. And that's pretty much what sparked the battle that eventually broke us up."

"What did they say?" I ask in a voice so quiet that I'm not sure I even said the words out loud.

He half-laughs, "Santana. You already know what they said."

I do know. But I want to hear it anyway. I hope beyond hope that he can read that in my face right now.

He sighs again, "There were three that I found. All of them said she missed you. Thought about you. Cares about you..." he whispers, "Loves you."

"Thank you," I say with as much finality as I can muster. I truly mean it, too. It must have sucked something fierce for him to say those things to me. It helped. I can feel a warm sensation starting to fill my body. God damn it, Brittany...why do I love you so fucking much? So much that it hurts. So much that I feel feelings that I hate. So much that I want to leave my life in New York and run back home to spend eternity with you, the Lima Bean Coffee House, and Sue fucking Sylvester.

"Santana, do you need to talk?" Artie asks softly.

Yes. Desperately. But not to you. And not right now.

I shake my head slowly and lower my eyes, "Not right now."

"That's fine," he reaches a comforting hand across the table and places it on mine. "I need to get going anyway." He rolls himself away from the table and turns his chair so he can leave.

"Artie," I say quickly, hoping to stop him. I want to say thank you again. I want to spill my guts. I want to hug him. But I can't do any of those things. I'm not there yet, and because he's a good friend, he knows it.

"Want to know something juicy?" He smiles arrogantly.

I sigh in relief, "Always."

"I already knew that Quinn slept with a girl. I already knew she was in love with that same girl. And I already know her name." He winks at me.

Mother fucker.

"Who is it!" I basically shout.

"Can't tell ya," he shrugs his shoulders, "It's her secret to tell."

"Ugh," I spit out, "Does everybody, but me, know?"

He smirks, "That's a definite possibility...you and Finn might be the only oblivious ones."

My skin crawls at the mention of being grouped in with that ogre. I would be furious if I wasn't so relived that Artie was able to cheer me up for a few seconds. I smile warmly at him as he rolls his way to the door.

"Bye Artie."

"Bye Santana."

* * *

After I finished my double-fisted coffee binge, I decided to get back in my car and go for, yet another, drive. I was kind of hoping I would come across Quinn's car.

As I was desperately trying to remember all the ex-Cheerios we cheered with and the names of all the girls in celibacy club—in hopes of one of them sparking my memory and/or my gaydar—I drove by a small park with a swing set and immediately recognized an out-dated mohawk.

I don't even think twice as I quickly whip my car into a free parking space next to Puck's disgusting truck.

I'm on Snix auto-pilot now and before I can even register what I'm doing, I'm out of my car and stomping full-speed toward Puck.

He catches a glimpse of me when I'm a few feet away and holds up his hands in defense.

"Please don't hit me in front of my kid," he says quickly.

I slow my pace and glance around his body to see a boy of about two-years-old on a swing. His eyes are big with questions and he smiles curiously at me. It's a smirk, really. A challenging one. Like he wants me to hit his dad just so he can see what happens...he's definitely Puck's kid.

I sigh heavily and collect myself.

"Are the matching mohawks really necessary?" I ask with a snotty tone gesturing at the boy's head.

Puck smiles cautiously like he's not quite sure how big of a smartass he can be just yet.

"He likes to look like daddy," he says proudly.

"What's his name?" I ask as I completely power down from my anger and allow myself to be civil.

"Maxwell, but we just call him Max." Puck smiles warmly at me. It's the same smile he used to have when talking about Beth. His kids are something that he's really proud of and before I can stop myself I smile back at him.

"Damn it, Puck," I pinch the bridge of my nose, "I _really_ wanted to hit you in the face and now you have me smiling."

He turns back to Max and gives him a slight push to get the swing moving again.

"What can I say? The ladies can't resist."

"Okay, I'm going to hit you anyway," I step forward.

He flinches backward, "You didn't see what you think you saw."

"Then explain what I saw," I say through clenched teeth with my hand cocked back and ready to strike.

He takes a nervous glance at Max and whispers, "Look, Sugar and I fight a lot, okay?"

I lower my hand and nod for him to continue.

"Britt is one of my oldest friends, San. She understands, okay? So when Sugar kicks me out of the house or we're fighting pretty bad, Brittany lets me crash at her place."

"It was morning, Puck. You were showering. She had just showered. What the fuck am I supposed to think!" I snap.

His eyes dart to Max and back to me with a warning glare. Yeah, yeah I get it. No swearing in front of the kid.

My face relaxes and I know he can tell that I will heed his silent warning with my language.

"We had a fight this morning," he looks at his feet and gives the swing another push. "I stormed out and I needed a place to cool off. I went to Britt's to talk to her and she said that she needed to shower and I could use it after her."

My shoulders slump and I look at his feet, too. I'm the world's biggest jackass.

I don't say anything.

"She was upset about something this morning, too. I'm guessing that was your doing?" He cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Some people never change," I sigh, "you and I are two of them."

"Don't lump me in with you," he playfully punches my shoulder.

I smile at him. "Why do you and Sugar fight so much anyway?"

He lifts Max out of the swing and points at the slide as a silent command for the kid to run ahead. He obliges and his chubby legs carry him as fast as they can toward the other side of the playground. Puck and I saunter behind.

"So?" I ask again.

"Because I cheat on her," he says simply.

"God, you're a pig," I turn and punch his shoulder with as much strength as I can muster.

"Ow! Damn it, Lopez, ow!" He jumps back and starts rubbing the spot I struck.

"Serves you right."

"Yeah, yeah. Brittany lectures me about it, too. Don't worry."

I turn and look at Max as he ascends the slide. "Maybe you should picture how much you're hurting your son when you feel tempted." I give him a pointed look.

He sighs heavily, "I know..."

We're silent a moment before he continues, "It's not going to work out."

I frown at him questioningly.

"Sugar and me," he continues, "we're over. We've been over. We just haven't admitted it to ourselves or each other."

A wave of guilt washes over me for hitting him and for jumping to conclusions. He's clearly hurting. I know Puck and I know there's one thing he's never wanted to be: his dad. Without him saying a word, I can already tell by the teary look he gives Max that he's scared that he won't be there enough with joint custody.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"Don't apologize," he waves a dismissive hand at me, "It's no different than you and Britt not admitting to yourselves that you _aren't_ over. And never will be."

We lock eyes. Puck is a friend like Quinn is a friend. Years of experience have allowed us to read each other without words. Yet another person that I wouldn't mind being around on a more regular basis. A friend that I_ should_ be around once he and Sugar split...because he will need me. And I will need him.

He smiles at me and steps forward, wrapping me up in a tight hug.

"I love you girls," he laughs, "even if you're all frustrating as hell."

He releases me and turns back to Max, giving him an encouraging wave to go back up the kiddie slide for another run.

"I think maybe I'm the only frustrating one," I say with dejection.

He laughs, "No, you and Quinn might be tied."

"Quinn?" I question.

"Yeah," he pauses, "well, Rachel might be up there, too."

I'm confused as to why he's listing all the girls from glee club. I thought we were just talking about Brittany and me.

"So...I guess Britt is the only Lesbro I have that has her shit straight." He laughs and re-whispers the word 'straight' to himself.

"What?" I ask confused as ever and frown at him.

"Well..." he trails off, "I mean she's the only one who's never questioned exactly what she wants." He looks me in the eyes and continues sarcastically, "That being you, sweetheart."

"That's not the part that confused me, Puck. You said Rach—HOLY SHIT!" I all but scream in his face. My jaw falls slack. Quinn is sleeping with a girl. Rachel. Quinn is fucking Rachel Berry.

I can feel my face morph into a combination of disgust and shock.

Puck laughs, "Oh...I guess you didn't know about them, huh?"

"I feel sick."

"Yeah, they're just as mind-fuckingly awesome as you and Britt."

"Show Choir is SO gay!" I throw my arms in the air for emphasis.

"I've had sex with so many lesbians," he laughs.

"Quinn likes Berry..." I can't wrap my mind around it.

"I think it's a little more than 'like,' babe," Puck smirks like a pervert, "I mean, they started bumping pretties around the time you and Britt did."

I frown at him and scoff, "Thanks, dickhead. Now I need sandpaper on my eyes and drill gun to the head to get rid of that image."

I punch his shoulder again and he smiles at me with pure adoration.

Yeah, I could get used to this.

* * *

As I drive back to Brittany's house I realize that I have only been in Lima for a week and all this shit has gone down...and other shit has come to light. I've heard the saying "home is where your heart is," but I think it should read, "home is where your shit gets rocked." Because that is exactly how I feel right now. I am rocked shit.

I don't even think twice about getting out of the car when I pull into her driveway. I'm going to do this, damn it. Time to step up and be an adult. Face the fears. No turning back. I will talk to Brittany. No more avoidance. I'm going to be brave and...

….the house is dark and empty.

I stand in the open doorway and frown to myself for a second.

She left? Where the fuck did she go? Everybody is still home for the reunion so she could really be anywhere.

I step into the empty house and let the door slowly close behind me. I need to mentally file through all of the places she could be. Her dance studio is a definite possibility. She's not with Puck because I just saw him. Quinn, apparently, has her head so far up Berry's ass that she's probably not a possibility either.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Shit.

Well...back to driving around aimlessly, it is.

But first I need to freshen up. I flip on a light and something catches my eye. It's my bag. My packed bag is sitting nicely off to the side of the rug that Brittany leaves her shoes on. So...she obviously wants me to leave. My shoulders slump at the realization. I feel my throat tighten. My eyes sting with potential tears. Damn it, Brittany. I came here to do the right thing for once.

I take a step closer and see a white envelope resting on top of the bag. I reach down and pick it up. "Read me" is scribbled on the top.

I dry swallow. I don't want to read this. Do I? What if it's good-bye? Again.

"Fuck," I breathe out-loud as I flip the envelope and yank out its contents.

There are two pieces of paper stapled together. I scan my eyes over the first sheet. I can feel my face drain of color. I recognize this. Brittany didn't write it. I did. I wrote this almost 6 years ago.

**B-**

** I hate having Spanish class without you. Mr. Schue needs some serious help up in here. The man should just stick to glee club. **

** Anyway, I haven't put a letter in your locker in for-ev-er, so I thought it would be a nice time to remind you how much I love you. I love you so, so much, Britt. I love your jokes. I love your smile. I love the green apples in your hair. I love that you see good in me when nobody else does. I even love your fucking cat. **

** I hope you never forget how much I love you...because I never will. **

** See you at lunch!**

-San

I feel my chest tighten as I read and re-read the words over and over again. I know why she kept this. I know why she's showing me now.

I numbly play with the staple at the top of the page and hesitate to turn it as I ponder what's underneath. I glance at my packed bag, again. She put it there to give me the choice. She wants me to decide what I want on my own.

No use in delaying the inevitable. I flip the page.

It's a letter from her to me...written today.

**Santana, **

**I will never forget.**

** Brittany**

She didn't need to say more than that. It was perfect. She never forgot how much I loved her. Love her still. It was never a question that Brittany loved me...loves me...more than anyone else. It was just always there. She devoted her heart to me years ago and never second guessed her choice. Not even with Artie. It was always me.

And it was always me that did the second guessing...the breaking up...the forgetting.

I suck in a shaky breath and let all the pent up emotions wash over me as I sink slowly to the floor. Hot tears streak my cheeks as memories of Brittany and me flood my mind.

The way her blue eyes pierced my soul while I sang _Songbird_.

Her pinky latching securely on to mine.

Lord Tubbington lying in between us at night.

Brittany stroking my hair as I gently cried the night I came out to my Abuela.

Running my hands over her smooth torso in the bathtub.

Her softly mumbling that she thinks she's falling in love with me as she drifts off to sleep.

…I haven't forgotten.

* * *

_4 Years Earlier_

_I stared at myself stupidly in my dresser mirror. My eyes were swollen and bloodshot. My make-up was streaked from the tears. My bottom lip was slightly swollen from biting it so hard. _

_ An energy exchange? Did I really say that? _

_ After all the time and energy it took to get Brittany back, to convince her that she's my one and only forever, I had thrown it away...again. _

_ 'I will always love you the most.' _

_ The words echoed in my ears. I will. I will always love Brittany the most...but I couldn't love her the way she needed me to. Not right then. _

_ It's not an official break-up. It can't be. We will find our way back to each other when it's right. _

_ My stomach curled into itself and I felt nauseous. What if it's never right again? What if our love is forever trapped in that choir room...and growing up means growing apart?_

_ I couldn't think about that right then. I had to get back to Louisville. _

_ The old shampoo bottle caught my eye. I picked it up and popped the cap. _

_ I slowly inhaled the green apple scent and closed my eyes. _

_ Brittany. _

_ I always have and always will...love her the most. _

_ But in order for it to work, we need to find each other as adults the same way we did as teenagers. _

_ 'Please find me, Britt,' I pleaded silently to myself. Please. _

_ I closed the cap on the bottle, and threw it in the garbage by my door as I left. _


	7. I Don't Want Nobody, Baby

**A/N: Okay, this is the last chapter for this fic. Thanks to the people who reviewed and sent me private messages. It might seem like I did a cop-out in part of this chapter, but I actually got the idea from the Season 4 finale. I even stole a line that Santana said to Brittany. I'm sure you'll all know exactly which one.**

**Also, if you're looking for some Faberry goodness, my friend KiloRiley has a WIP fic called Outside Hearts that is DEFINITELY worth checking out.**

**The title for this chapter comes from the song If I Can't Have You.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

_**Chapter 7: I Don't Want Nobody, Baby**_

After I read Brittany's letters last night I stayed up for hours rehearsing in my head exactly what I wanted to say to her when she came home.

But she never did come home.

At least not while I was awake. I passed out on the couch and woke up this morning with a blanket over me in an empty house. She's obviously really scared to talk to me. I don't want to force her. I'm going to be patient and allow her to come to me when she's ready. With so many emotions running high, it's best that we're both confronted in our own free will.

But sitting in that house, alone, for all that time was really starting to wear on me. So once I got the text from Quinn to meet for coffee, I was happy to oblige.

I'm sitting alone at a corner table, half-way through my first coffee, when she breezes through the door. Now that I'm tuned in to Quinn's extra curricular activities with Berry, it's hard to miss the 'just fucked' look plastered on her face. She has a bounce in her step. She can't help but smile. I want to puke.

"G'morning, Santana," she chirps as she takes a seat across from me.

"G'morning to you, too, Mrs. Berry," I deadpan.

She chokes on her first drink. I stare across the table with a blank expression...forcing myself not to blink. Her eyes slowly lift to mine.

"Santana-" she states, trying to gauge my reaction. I give her none.

"Say something," she pleads after a beat.

"About what?" I say with an even tone.

"Why did you just call me Mrs. Berry?" she arches an eyebrow as a challenge. Quinn is so much fun. I bet she has poor Rachel running around in circles half the time.

"I want _you_ to tell _me_ why I just called you that," I respond. Damn it, I'm supposed to be one of her best and oldest friends. It's not fucking fair that everybody, but me, knew about this. I cross my arms across my chest to show that I'm unwavering. She has to grow a pair of tits and tell her friend that she's fucking our other friend. It's only right.

"Well I'm not playing your silly games this morning so we will just change the subject, then. How was last night? Did you talk to Britt yet?" she says all in one breath.

Damn. She's better at this than I give her credit for.

I throw my hands up in defeat. "Oh, fuck you, Fabray. I know you're banging Berry."

"Keep your voice down!" she snaps back as she cautiously looks around to make sure nobody heard me.

"Oh calm your tits, nobody heard me," I say with a wave of my hand. "You know, for having been the teenaged, closeted and pregnant President of the Celibacy Club—you sure are a prude in public."

"Oh, bite me, Santana," she snaps back. "Who the hell told you anyway?"

"Right. Like it wasn't just an obvious observation? Sure, Quinn...keep telling yourself that Rachel Berry getting in your pants _isn't_ something she's bragging about. Even if it is just with the way she looks at you."

It was a lie. It wasn't obvious at all, and I certainly hadn't observed shit. But, I knew better than to let on that Puck, Artie, and Brittany all knew. I didn't need to unleash the wrath of Quinn on any of their poor, unfortunate souls.

"She looks at me a certain way?" She ducks her head shyly and I think I may vomit.

I roll my eyes, "God. Could you be more pathetic, Q?"

She's silent and keeps looking down as a slow pink covers her cheeks and ears.

"Where'd your voice go, blondie? Is Berry, the sea witch, holding it captive until you give true love's first kiss?"

She frowns at me. I frown at myself. When did I start channeling The Little Mermaid?

I shake my head to clear it.

"San?" she quirks her signature eyebrow. "Why are you projecting on to me? What's really bothering you?"

"No way," I argue, "You explain first and I will second."

"Explain what?" she asks coyly.

"You. And. Berry." I say through gritted teeth. Quinn can push my buttons better than anybody. Well, not anybody...Rachel is better at it. I suddenly feel very disgusted at the fact that the two people who have the ability to piss me off the most are in a relationship. I can never, NEVER, hang out with the two of them together. What if they touch each other in front of me? Or baby talk? Oh god. What if they kiss? I feel nauseous. I lean forward a little and use a hand to steady myself against the table.

"You look like you're going to be sick," she says with a disgusted face.

"Quinn," I say impatiently.

"Okay, okay fine!" She sighs heavily, "It started in high school and it was really confusing for me with, well, everything and so we never told anybody. Hell, we barely talked about it with each other."

I finally give her a look other than repulsion, because I empathize with not saying what you really feel out of fear.

As my face softens, so does her tone.

"Anyway, things were never really easy for us with Finn and my parents and Rachel going to NYADA and me going to Yale. We kind of broke up, if you can even call it that, over winter break freshman year of college. But, I guess, we didn't officially end it until Thanksgiving of sophomore year..." She trails off as her gaze falls to the window next to us. I can tell she's lost in thought and I don't want to disrupt her.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," I venture softly, with my eyes downcast.

Her head turns back and I can feel her looking at me. "Sorry?" she asks. "Why are you sorry?"

My chest feels suddenly heavy. Hearing Quinn talk about Rachel in that way had caused something to shift inside me. I don't know what I'm sorry for exactly. I'm sorry I didn't realize how bad she was hurting over all of this in the past. I'm sorry I never was there to comfort her or talk to her about it all. I'm sorry that I called Rachel all those awful names in front of Quinn—not that I didn't mean them, but I still would have been more discreet if I had been aware of her feelings.

I can feel the tears pooling and I roll my eyes. I'm so fucking sick of crying.

"San...are you crying?" She reaches a gentle hand across the table and puts it on mine.

"I'm just sorry I wasn't a better friend, Quinn. I should've known. I could've helped." I take in a shaky breath. My cheeks are wet. Damn it. The tears are falling. I can't fucking win this week.

"It's not your fault," she soothes, "I made damn sure that nobody found out, or could even guess it, for the longest time." She sounds sad now.

I wipe the tears with the back of my hand, "Who found out first?"

I know its a weird question to ask, but I'm genuinely curious since the first person to find out about Brittany and me was what really started the ball rolling as far as coming out and admitting it to everybody. That person, for us, was Quinn. She swore she would never tell and kept her word. We just got careless...all swept up in love and other sappy bullshit.

"Puck, actually." She laughs as she takes a drink of her coffee.

My turn to raise an eyebrow. "Seriously?" I ask in a low voice.

She laughs again, "Yeah, but that's a long story."

"So..." I continue, "before the reunion, how long had it been?"

"Over two years. It would have been three, but I saw her here," she motions around us to the rest of the coffee shop, "not long after we ended it. It was just once and through the window. I panicked and ran off." She scoffs at herself.

"And now?" I sit back and relax my shoulders.

"And now..." she drawls out slowly, "I'm not sure." She smiles at me simply.

"Oh come on!" I protest. "You can't actually get me invested in a story about Rachel fucking Berry, trick me into rooting for her, and then leave me hanging."

"Rooting for her?" She laughs loudly this time.

"Well," I pause, "yeah...I mean, fuck, Quinn. You're the second hardest person in the world to fall in love with and she's been doing it for years? Everybody loves an underdog story."

She stares at me with an unreadable expression.

"I'm assuming she loves you, right?" I ask slowly, hoping I didn't just touch a nerve. She nods studiously. "And...you love her."

She nods again.

"It wasn't a question, Quinn. I was stating that you love her. It's pretty obvious."

"How?" If I hadn't been looking right at her mouth as she breathed it out, I would have missed it.

"Because, Q, your eyes smile when you're around Rachel. It's a weird sparkle thing. I used to think it was just because you got so excited about torturing her...I didn't realize it was sexual tension. I would have had a fucking hay day with that!" I smile largely.

She smiles back. "I like it better when you call her 'Berry'."

I raise both my eyebrows in question.

"Calling her 'Rachel' has always kind of been my thing."

To most people that would be a confusing statement, but not to me. Quinn has always had a particular way of biting out Berry's name. She's the only person who can articulate it with equal amounts of disdain and dominance. And, I guess in light of my recent discovery, love. Quinn's a complex character like that.

"All right, Q," I digress, "I'll call her Berry." It's my own way of calling a truce and a silent promise that I'll be nicer to Rachel. As much as I love the many colorful nicknames she's accumulated over the years, it's time to put them to rest. Berry it is.

"Good," she says with finality and slaps her palm on the table, "Now, what's the deal with Brittany?"

I sigh. Where do I start?

I open my mouth and just start rambling. I'm basically on autopilot and the words are just spilling out. If I stop to think about it for too long, I'll feel too much. If I feel too much, I'll cry. If I cry, I'll get defensive. If I get defensive, I'll stop talking. If I stop talking, non of this shit will ever be solved, and five years from now Quinn and I will be in this same fucking coffee stop, having this same fucking conversation about my life.

I started with the reason I broke up with Brittany freshman year of college. Quinn listens patiently and never once allows her own opinions of my childish actions to sway her into rudeness. She is nothing but an attentive, great friend. Which, 'bout fucking time. Ditching me for a sex marathon with Berry? She fucking owes me.

Seeing Quinn open up to me the way she did just moments ago was amazing, really. Sure, Quinn and I were always close friends but we've never truly told each other everything. So now that she's admitted to having fallen in love with Rachel, I felt it was only fair to spill everything to her. I mean, ev-er-y-thing.

I tell her what it was like seeing Brittany at McKinley a few days ago. I explain exactly what I was feeling the night we hooked up and the morning I bailed. I tell her I'm scared. Terrified even. Everything I ever wanted was success and Brittany, and life made it pretty clear awhile ago that I could only have one or the other. Or neither.

For the first time, I admit that I want to move home and give up on New York City.

My shoulders slump in defeat at that last admission.

There it is. The harsh truth.

Three of us went to New York five years ago. One of us didn't make it.

I had failed.

Shit. Now I'm feeling things. The tears well instantly. My face gets hot.

"How do you measure success?" Quinn asks with zero sympathy in her tone.

"Huh?" I look up and wipe the tears off my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

"What do you consider successful?" she says like it's an obvious question.

"I..." I falter, "I-I guess...Rachel."

"Rachel?"

"Yeah, Quinn. She's doing well. She pursued her dream and she's making it."

"Is she happy?" She quirks an eyebrow. The fuck is she getting at here?

"I don't know, Q.," I tilt my head to the side and widen my eyes in a challenge, "you tell me."

She laughs, "I'm not trying to trick you, Santana. I'm just asking, do you think Rachel is happy with how she's doing in New York right now?"

"No..." I trail off.

"And why not?" She squares her shoulders and narrows her eyes. Fuck you, Quinn. I hate it when you're right.

"Because she's Berry and she sets insanely high expectations for herself."

"If you had been in Off-Broadway shows like she has, would you feel successful?" she pushes further.

"Yes, I would."

"But Rachel doesn't?"

"No." I feel so small right now. I know what she's saying, but I don't make an effort to stop her.

"Exactly. Because everybody sees success in a different light, San. Just because you're living in Lima, Ohio and coaching the Cheerios to their umpteenth National Championship does not make you a failure because..." She trails off and looks at me. Does she really fucking expect me to finish the sentence for her? Jesus Christ. I hate when she acts like my mom.

"Because..." she presses again and waves her hand in front of me as a signal.

I grunt at her.

She smiles.

Bitch.

"Because..." I say quietly, "Because it would make me happy."

"Would you feel like a failure?"

"No."

"Would Brittany be proud of you?"

"Of course she would." I bury my face in hands.

"And who's opinions are the only ones that matter in your life?"

"Mine and Britt's."

"Exactly." She says with triumph. "Now, quit being a whiny bitch and go get the girl. Re-route your plans. Fulfill your new dream, Santana."

I lift my face from my hands and before I can stop myself, I'm smiling at her. This amazing woman across from me. The most infuriating bitch I know. God, I love her.

She smiles back. She's so happy. I'm happy for her.

"I was hoping that you'd be visiting me more in New York now that you're riding the Berry Gravy Train."

"Well...you'll just have to visit me up there."

I furrow my brow. "What?"

She looks at her hands with a small smile.

"I'm moving to New York...with Rachel."

* * *

Of course that twat I call my best friend would move to New York right when I decide I want to move home. Quinn and I are just not meant to live in the same city, I guess.

I mean, its probably for the best. We were in the same high school and the hallways basically imploded with bitchy greatness. And now that we're both out, no city could handle our combined levels of sexy lesbian. Plus, we'd most likely end up hating each other again. Skype dates and scheduled visits are probably the best way to keep my and Quinn's relationship intact.

I'm parked in Brittany's driveway. The car next to mine tells me that she's home now. Now what do I do? I was so confident yesterday and now I'm a shaking mess.

How do I tell her I love her? That I've always loved her?

She wrote me a letter. I can write a letter. I've written plenty.

I don't have any paper. I have a gum wrapper. That could be kind of cute, right?

Wait. No, moron. What are you going to do, walk through the door and throw a wrapper at her? Grow up, It's time to do this as an adult. With words. Spoken words.

Damn it, this is hard.

In the midst of my mental freak-out, something catches my eye.

It's Brittany. She's standing in the doorway with the front door wide open. She's staring right at me. And she's smiling.

What the fuck am I doing? This is Brittany. BRITTANY.

I suck in a confident breath and open the car door.

As I stride up to where she's leaning against the frame, I gain confidence with each step. My shoulders are back. My head is up. Eyes locked on her. I smile back. She's seen this strut before. She knows what I'm going for and before I even put my hands on her hips, she's already jumping in my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist.

She threads her fingers through my long hair and forcefully brings my mouth to hers. I walk us backwards into the house and close the door with a quick kick.

I turn my head slightly and she deepens the kiss, instinctively. Her tongue slides across my lips and I happily open up and grant her entry.

She sighs contently when our tongues connect.

I try to pull away to talk, but her strong hands keep me firmly in place.

I smile against her lips. "Br-" I try again.

She lets go for a second. "What?" She latches on again.

I pull away, "I-" I get pulled back in. Okay, I'm going to have to do this in between kisses. I have to say it, though. It's not fair that she has to wonder.

"I-" kiss. "Lo-" kiss.

This isn't working. I'm still holding her in the air. We haven't made it past the doormat.

I pull away forcefully. "My neck," I command. I know B, and if I give her a task, she'll go at it diligently.

She moans lightly and starts trailing kisses down my neck as I walk us to the living room. Once I reach the couch, I plop her down into a mound of pillows.

She squeals happily, then pulls me by my shirt until I'm straddling her.

She leans back in to recapture my lips, but I pull back slightly.

"B..." I look at my hands in her lap.

She softly strokes the side of my face.

I look up and meet her eyes. She loves me so much. I hope she sees it in my eyes, too.

"I never forgot," I rush out. I'm referring to the letter she wrote me yesterday, of course, but when she frowns at me I realize I should have built up to that.

"Your letter," I say quietly.

Her face lights up with understanding. Good. We're on the same page now.

"I-" I'm cut off by lips again. Damn it, I'm never going to get this out.

I put my arms around her body and slide my hands under her ass. I lift her slightly into me and turn us both so we're lying down on the length of the sofa.

I twist my body so I'm still straddling her and plant a hand on either side of her head. I lock my elbows and pull away from the kiss.

"Britt," I laugh out.

"San," she pouts back at me. Her bottom lip juts out. "Please just let me kiss you?"

"You don't want to talk first?"

She shakes her head forcefully.

"But why not?" I frown down at her.

"You're leaving tomorrow and I don't want to waste time being mad." She takes one of her hands off my waist and loops it behind my neck. She attempts to pull me down, again.

I pull back. I have to say it.

"Brittany, I love you. I've always loved you. I never forgot what I felt. What I feel. Ever. I'm glad that I moved to New York, but it's not where I'm happy anymore. I'm happy with yo—mmph." She overpowers my arms with her own and kisses me again.

I attempt to push myself away.

She grunts in frustration, "San, do you need me to tell you how much I love you? How much I want you? What you make me feel?"

"N-no, Britt..." I trail off, confused.

"And why not?"

"Because you don't have to say anything, Brittany."

My eyes bug out. The realization hits me like fucking truck. Of course I don't have to say anything. And neither does she. We've never had to say anything. She saw it the second I stepped out of my car. Brittany and Santana don't need words.

Understanding floods my face and she sees it. She smirks.

I smirk back, "I love you so fucking much."

"Then show me," she husks.

* * *

It didn't take me long to get her up the stairs, naked, and in bed. I still had my shirt and underwear on. I had managed to kick off my pants as I fell face first into the bed.

Brittany had giggled. I laughed with her and made a joke about being all hers. She quipped back with, "I'm a lucky girl."

She was now lying in the middle of the bed and I had one of my legs between hers. Our lips are fused and the kisses are slow and loving.

I lazily trail a hand down her naked body to where I want it to be.

"San," she breaks away and pouts again, "you have too many clothes on."

I smile back at her and sit back on my knees to pull my shirt over my head. I twist an arm behind my back and unclasp my bra and discard that, too.

"Better?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"Mmhmm," she hums, "Much better."

I quickly get back to work by gently sucking and nipping at her neck. She bucks her hips and my stomach tightens in arousal.

I trail the kisses down over her collarbone and to her breasts. I don't hesitate to move my tongue over an erect nipple. She breathes deep and moves her hips again. This time, she pushed her thigh between my legs. She can feel how wet I am through my underwear and it only spurs her on.

She grunts louder and attaches her hands to my hips, pushing me down into her thigh as she rocks against me.

"Oh, god, Britt" I pant. "If you keep doing that I'm going to come fast."

To her, that's a challenge. She thrusts her hips up harder.

If that's how she wants to play, then I'm fine with it. I hook my thumbs inside the band of my remaining clothing and push it down over my thighs, before kicking it off the rest of the way.

"San," she whispers as I'm about to make my decent down her torso.

"Yeah, B?"

"Kiss me," she commands.

I crawl my way back up to her mouth and press my lips down on hers slowly. I take in her bottom lip. Then her upper lip. I graze my tongue over them gently. She opens her mouth and I tilt my head as I dip in.

Our tongues tangle in rhythm with our hips, which are moving heatedly again.

I wasn't joking before. My stomach is tight. I can feel the burn building inside. If she keeps moving those perfect legs against me, I'm going to climax.

Brittany slides one hand from my back and puts it in between us. I lift my body enough to allow her access. She pushes one finger against my clit and starts making painfully slow circles with very light pressure.

My body shudders at the welcomed touch, but it aches for more. I push down against her hand hoping she'll be more forceful. She pulls back from the kiss. I push my hips down again. She pulls back her hand.

"Look at me," she requests quietly.

I hadn't even realized my eyes were closed. I open them and release a shaky breath. Her clear blue eyes are right there.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hi," she smiles. And she pushes her fingers against me as her hips start rocking again.

I prop my arms on either side of her to hold myself up. Her circling fingers make my legs start to shake. I moan and breathe heavily beyond my control.

I lean down to kiss her again. It's always better when her lips are on mine. She teases me a little longer before moving her fingers lower and pushing one inside of me. I gasp at first, breaking our kiss, and then start to slowly rock against her hand as she pumps in and out of me.

I try to kiss her again but my movements are sloppy as my body loses control. She adds another finger. I moan her name. She pumps faster. I rock harder. Her thumb circles my clit.

"Oh god—Britt—I'm," I pant out brokenly, "I'm going—going to-"

She circles my clit one last time as my body gives away. The orgasm rushes in my stomach and explodes through the rest of my body. I shake against her still moving fingers and my body collapses on hers.

"I will never get tired of that," she all but moans.

I lift my head to meet her eyes, "You better not be tired because now its your turn." I smile mischievously and slide my body down hers until I'm perched between her legs.

I swing one of her thighs over my shoulder and waste no time taking her into my mouth.

Her back arches. "Oh, San-"

* * *

I lay on my back with Britt's head on my shoulder. Her naked body is wrapped around mine under the warm sheets of her bed. I'm so happy right now that I could burst into a spray of fucking confetti. This just feels so perfect. Spending the day with a friend. Spending my night with Brittany.

I sigh contently and bury my nose into the top of her head. I suck in a slow breath. Mmm...green apples. Perfect.

Her heavy breathing tells me that she's sound asleep. Britt never could stay awake after her second orgasm. It's like a fucking Ambien to her. It's so damn cute when she sleeps on me that I never even care if I don't get my seconds.

"Brittany?" I whisper into the top of her head.

She doesn't even stir. Another thing sex does to her—once she's out, she's OUT. She won't wake up until she gets at least six hours.

"Britt, I know you can't hear me right now," I continue, "but I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to worry about us trying to figure out a New York and Lima schedule for very long."

I kiss the top of her head softly.

"You don't have to worry because I plan on moving back here," I say. There are tears in my eyes and my voice is cracking now. Please don't wake up. I don't want you to worry.

"I-I feel like a failure, B," I choke out quietly. "I wish I didn't, but I do."

I take in a deep breath and attempt to calm myself.

"I know that you would tell me I'm not a failure if you were awake right now. I know you'd say that I'm perfect no matter what I do with my life."

I wipe the tears running down my face carefully so I don't wake her.

"I guess that's just something I'll have to work on...here...with you."

A warmth washes over my body as I picture many, many more nights like this one.

"I'm going to come back here and make things better. I'm going to work at McKinley with the Cheerios. I'm going to find a cheap place to live until we're ready to live together. I'm going to take you on dates and treat you like you've always deserved to be treated."

I pull her body in closer to mine and kiss her head again. This is a new start for me. For us. A new beginning. A chance for anything to happen. This time, I'm going with my heart and not letting my head mind-fuck me into stupidity.

"I know this is taking a risk. And I don't know if I will even be happy back here...," I trail off, "but it's worth a shot. It's worth it for you. I'm never going to second guess us again. I'm yours forever, B. Proudly so."

* * *

_9 Years Earlier_

_ I reached my shaky hands behind my head and tugged sharply on either side of the ponytail to ensure it was tight against my scalp. Coach Sylvester had called me out of class to her office. I didn't know why and it had my nerves on high alert. Freshman year had just started and we were only three weeks into school. I had only been a Cheerio for two weeks. What could I have done wrong already? _

_ As much as I hated to admit it, Coach scared the ever lovin' shit out of me. I didn't want to be cornered in her room. Especially if I was going to be getting a lecture. _

_I'm standing outside her door. No more hesitating, I told myself. If I'm going to gain status as a head bitch, then I needed to step it up and show confidence—not fear. Never fear. _

_ I let out the breath I was holding and swiftly cranked my head from side to side to crack my neck and release the pressure. _

_ I opened the door to find another girl inside, sitting in a chair in front of Coach's desk. She looked about my age. She was tall and blonde. Her bangs were atrocious, but other than that, I thought to myself, she was actually kind of pretty._

_ "Hey," I bit out sharply. I didn't know who she was or why she was there, but she needed to know that I was in charge. _

_ She didn't say anything back. Just smiled. _

_ Her smile was warm. Her eyes were bright. Before I could help it, I smirked back at her. _

_ I was pulled out of my trance with the girl when Coach cleared her throat. _

_ "If you two are done playing eye-hockey, I'd like to get on with it," she said dryly. _

_ I didn't say anything back and I didn't make a move to sit down. I turned my body to give Coach __my full attention with my hands securely locked behind my back. I had to give her this kind of respect so she would see that I'm Captain material. She slowly swiveled back and forth in her chair as she prepared to speak to me. _

_ "Lopez, this is Brittany. She just transferred here and she has some dancing skills. She's a couple weeks behind in training, and let's be honest, a couple years behind in everything else." _

_ My eyes quickly drifted to Brittany's profile as she stared at Coach. I was trying to gauge if the insult had affected her. Her eyes were wide with wonderment. She seemed unaffected. Either she missed the insult or is really fucking good at hiding feelings. _

_ "I'm putting her on the squad so I need you and Q to see to it that she's taken care of and caught up on everything she needs to know," Coach continued. _

_ "Yes, Coach," I immediately agreed. She was giving me responsibility. That was a good sign. Q and I were going to own the Cheerios by next year. _

_ "All right, both of you get out of my office. The smell of teenager gives me migraines. Give her a tour of the building before you go back to class, Jenny from the block." She waved her hand dismissively, excusing us to go. _

_ Brittany quickly jumped out of her seat and followed me out of the room. _

_ After the door closed behind us, I turned to her. "Okay...Brittany, is it?" _

_ She nodded and smiled brightly. I felt my stomach jump a little. What the hell is that all about? I shook my head to try and rid myself of the unwanted reaction. _

_ "Okay, well..mind if I just call you B?" _

_ "I don't mind," she said chirpily. It was the first time I heard her voice. It was soft and very non-threatening. I let my defenses fall a little bit, having realized that this girl didn't pose a obvious threat. _

_ "Okay, B it is. My name is Santana." _

_ "San-tan-a," she enunciated each syllable like she was trying out something unfamiliar with her tongue. _

_ If anybody else had done this to my face, I probably would have gone apeshit on their ass, but something about this girl told me that she wasn't trying to insult me. _

_ "Yeah," I said blandly, "That's right. Santana. So, why don't we start with the gym. It's this way," I motioned to my left and started to slowly move my feet in that direction. _

_ The blonde girl named Brittany stayed silent but followed my movement. _

_ "So what brings you to McKinley?" I tried to start a conversation. _

_ "School," she said quickly, "I like your hair. It's the color of chocolate." She reached out and gently stroked my ponytail. _

_ My first thought was to slap away her hand. Or just plain bitch slap her. What the fuck is her angle here? I stopped walking and spun around quickly, meeting those blue eyes again. _

_ Before I had a chance to snap at her, she gasped in my face and continued with, "Oh, pretty! Your eyes are like dark chocolate up close!" _

_ I let out a long breath. Again, I could tell she wasn't being a bitch. She was being genuine with me. _

_ I couldn't help but laugh a little. Nobody had ever called my hair chocolate before. That was new. _

_ "Thanks, I think," I replied. I looked over her face slowly and then said, "Your hair is like the sun and your eyes are like the sky on a sunny day." _

_ She giggled and looked down shyly. I realized in that moment that I would walk through fire to get that kind of reaction out of her again. My stomach was going crazy and my mind was flooded with a million questions of 'what does this all mean?' _

_ I quickly composed myself and decided to push the thoughts away. I'll deal with those later, I bargained. _

_ "Ready to continue the tour?" I asked softly._

_ She looked up and nodded gently. _

_ "I like you, Santana. You're the first friend I've made here." _

_ She had said it un-apologetically. Like it wasn't weird for her to like me already. Like we hadn't just met minutes before. I kept my head down and kept us on track for the gym. _

_ I realized almost immediately that I already liked her, too. What the hell was happening? I had known Quinn for 3 weeks and I still didn't even know her last name, let alone if I liked her or not. _

_ I didn't have any friends that carried over from middle school. I was never able to keep friends. I was told that I'm too mean. Whatever that means. _

_ But this is different. High school is different. This girl. This Brittany...she's different. This is a new school and a new year. It's a new start. Why not start it with friends? Why not start it with Brittany as my friend? _

_ "I—uh-" I said quietly, "I like you, too, B." _

_ Before I had a chance to steal a glance at her face, she swooped her hand down to mine and interlocked our pinky fingers. _

_ "C'mon," she said eagerly, "let's go on that tour!" _

_ My chest tightened. I knew right then that this girl was going to be able to get me to do anything for her. _

_ She would be a challenge. Good. I welcomed it. _


End file.
